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I am notorious for quitting things I’m not enjoying, or that become too difficult.
I haven’t quit everything. I did manage to graduate from college (in the usual amount of time even). I stayed employed at the same company for more than just a few years (although in my 8 years there I did have 5 different jobs, but who’s counting?).
But on smaller scale things that are purely elective, I tend to quit.
Pottery class – check
Photography class – check
Creative writing class – check
Like every good mother who wants to reinvent herself through her children, I do not want my kids to turn into quitters like me.
How’s that going?
Let’s recap.
The first preschool Charlotte went to, a Montessori one, we quit after one month. Although, in fairness to the both of us, it was so not the right place for her.
Prior to that we bailed on Musikgarten, tumbling and a drama-type class – thanks to our good friend Sensory Processing Disorder.
Group lessons became more manageable once Charlotte had about a year of private OT behind her. Tumbling, swimming, and steel drum camp have been conquered.
In an effort to go gentle on myself, I have to say that Charlotte’s quitting of classes (or, more accurately, my quitting) really did have everything to do with her developmental readiness.
It was torture, for both of us, to make it through tumbling week after week. Even though I hated to do it, quitting was a relief.
Sarah, on the other hand, she and I stuck with two, consecutive 17-week tumbling classes last year. Not a quitter, my little Sarah!
Until today, that is. She absolutely positively does not want to go to dance anymore. For the last three weeks she has just tolerated it. I can’t leave the room. I *have* to do the (not parent participation) class with her.
By the time we were ready to leave this morning, she had dissolved into a puddle of tears on the ceramic tile floor.
I suspect it’s that a non-Mommy class coupled with the newness of preschool 2 mornings a week is just too much for this very attached little girl. She wants to be with me all the time. So, for now, we will stick with preschool, and dance, well, it’s become another casualty of The Quitter (that’s me).
But then there’s Charlotte and piano.
Charlotte does not want to practice the piano anymore. The problem is that she isn’t upset about it. She just says things like “No, not now.” Or, “I’ll do it when Daddy gets home.” She readily agrees to practice, but then doesn’t.
There’s no crying or whining (“But I don’t wanna practice.”). She’s happy to go to her lesson each week. What’s frustrating is she only needs to play a song a few times to have it down. This isn’t hard for her. But she still has to practice some to learn the music.
We’ve spent about 4 weeks now on “Hush, Little Baby” with minimal progress.
I go back and forth on whether to quit or not. On the one hand, her teacher says it’s a phase she’ll grow out of. Okay, but at $20 a lesson, how much money do I throw away till (if?) she grows out of it.
On the other hand, if I keep nagging her and trying to bribe/coerce/negotiate her into practicing, I may turn her away from it forever. There is no forcing her to do something she doesn’t want unless there is a consequence involved, and I don’t feel the least bit right about handing out consequences for not practicing. It’s not like she HAS to play the piano. It should be a desired activity -and it was very much desired for her until about 2 months ago.
However, if she quits now, she may never want to go back. But if she takes a break for awhile, she may be interested in picking it up again later.
It’s times like this I admit to being the most frustrated by her language skills. Is there a reason she doesn’t want to practice? She says she doesn’t want to quit, yet she won’t practice. Why why why?
Gah. Right now I’m leaning toward “taking a break.” Yep, we won’t call it quitting. Just taking a break.
And I’m going to have to trust that I’m not setting her, or Sarah, up for a life of perpetual quitting and lack of follow through, like their dear old Mom.
Sarah
Tomorrow begins Sarah’s 3rd week of (2 year old) preschool. Her adaptation has been up and down, but mostly up. Of course the first day she cried, both at drop off and pick up. The 2nd day, drop off only.
Apparently she stops crying seconds (seconds!) after I leave, but she does like to put on a good show. The first day, when I picked her up and she was crying, I asked, “But did you have fun?”
Amidst her tears, she got a big smile on her face and nodded. Then quickly remembered she was supposed be upset, and the frown came back and she shook her head. She threw in a little “Wah” too … for effect.
The 3rd day, no tears!! Woo hoo. Fourth day tears at drop off again. I blame another kid who standing right by the door crying his eyes out. Note to teachers: move the criers away from the door!
Tomorrow is Picture Day. Negotiations about what she’s going to wear are currently stalled. She’s locked in on “naked” and I’m not budging on “anything but naked.”
I don’t know what she’s learning at school, as she’s not very forthcoming other than she ate her snack and played outside. I do know she gets to do a lot of crafts, which is, honestly, one of the main reasons I wanted her to go to preschool, even at only 2 years old. An arts & crafts Mama I am not, my poor children suffer.
All in all, Sarah and preschool has been a good, good thing.
Charlotte
Kindergarten has presented a lot of new material for scripting. Although she is at the same school where she did preschool, the speakers were turned off in the preschool rooms, so those kids didn’t hear the intercom announcements.
Kindergartners, however, hear all the announcements.
Lately I’ve been summoned this way:
“Mommy, please report to the gym.”
Yesterday I was told to go to the potty center, while Sarah was sent to the breakfast center, and she took herself to the play center.
Centers were just introduced last week and apparently Charlotte has it down pat, at least to hear her talk. She knows who went to each center each day, and apparently she makes predictions about who’s going where the next day.
Mostly that prediction involves who isn’t going to the computer center (everyone else) and who is (her). Apparently computer center is very, very popular (shocker).
Charlotte is continuing to show us really, really (and I mean really) great spontaneous language every day. Today she wanted to wear a bright orange dress. I hesitated because I wasn’t sure if it would be warm enough.
She said, “But look at all the colorful flowers in my dress. It’s my favorite.”
Every day we sit back and think: “Whoa. I can’t believe she just said that.”
Other times, though, it’s the old Charlotte. Like when she dismisses me from the playroom because it’s time for the car riders to go.
It may be scripting, but it’s darn hilarious.
All in all, Charlotte and Kindergarten has been a good thing.
Some of Charlotte’s quirkiest things are some of my favorite things about her.
One of my favorites for a long time has been shhhhh.
Translation: Do not shush her, or tell her to be quiet, or keep her voice down in any manner of language.
If you do, you risk wounding her heart to its very core.
It’s true that Charlotte has a loud voice, but she’s not particularly loud in public places unless she gets really excited. I don’t often find myself needing to tell her quiet down, but it does happen.
For some time now (over a year!) she has been obsessed with making sure that she informs me everywhere we go that she’s not going to be quiet and that she is going to use her regular voice. Usually she informs me of this via her famed questioning tactic.
“Mommy, am I going to talk regular or quiet?”
You might think this is a legit question, but it’s trickery. Mad trickery.
If I say, “Charlotte, you need to talk quiet here,” she will drop to her knees, cover her face with her hands, possibly shed a tear or two, and then ask again, “Mommy, am I going to talk regular or quiet?”
To which I might say, “Talk whatever way you want, Charlotte.”
“Regular?!! or Quiet?!!” all the while pseudo-whimpering.
When this first started, I used to work really hard at helping her overcome this little disruption. Now, not so much.
If I’ve (God forbid) screwed up and broken Charlotte’s Rule Numero Uno and accidentally told her to be quiet (using any manner of language at all), I will just walk away and casually toss back over my shoulder, “Talk however you want, Charlotte, I’m going inside.”
Despite that cavalier approach, I do still take great pains to never shush, or tell her to be quiet, or to use an inside voice, or not to make any noise.
Luckily, when it does happen, I no longer have to listen to loud wailings, and rarely is there even the aforementioned whimpering.
Most often now it’s an interrogation, Charlotte-style.
One of my favorite examples happened last month while we were vacationing in South Carolina. Near the end our stay we were cooped up on a very rainy day. My sister was working and my Mom and I decided to take the girls to the nearby library for story time.
As we’re walking in, my Mom innocently says, to all three kids (my 2 and their cousin) to “keep it down in here because this is a library.”
Suddenly Charlotte erupts in tears. She grabs me and is burying her face in my shirt.
“Mommy, who told me to be quiet?”
“Charlotte, no one told YOU to be quiet, Grandma told everybody to keep it down since we’re in a library, a quiet place.”
“Mommy! Who! Told! Me! To! Be! Quiet!? Was it Grandma?”
“We’re in a LIBRARY. You can’t be loud in here.”
“Why did Grandma tell me to be quiet?”
[You are hearing all this said in a whiny, whimpery tone, right? Hers, not mine.]
“Charlotte, Grandma was not telling YOU to be quiet, she was talking to all three of you. And me.”
By this time we’ve made our way to story time and we’re settling in on the floor. Charlotte, of course, is glued to me, sitting in my lap and sending death looks over to poor Grandma. But all seems to be well. She’s being quiet. She’s listening.
And then it starts.
“Mommy, who told me to be quiet? Was it Grandma? Did Grandma tell me to be quiet?”
And on it went. And on. And on…
Fortunately, I find this to be endearing and hilarious. It’s just so funny that she’s so vehemently against being asked or told to be quiet.
Should you ever have the privilege of meeting the lovely Charlotte, consider yourself warned: She will only talk in a regular voice, she will not whisper, and if you shush her, beware.
Beware.
I’m a latecomer to this gem of a book.
When I was pregnant with Charlotte, or perhaps shortly after she was born, and heard mention of the book, it was usually followed by how it made the reader cry, how she sobbed her way through the end.
My natural reaction was, Why would I read a book that’s going to make me cry? And so I never sought it out.
And then today I was browsing at Half Price Books and there was the famed tear inducer. Less cynical than I used to be, perhaps, so I bought Love You Forever. Hours later, curled up in the recliner with Charlotte, I read her the book.
And, yes, I bawled like a baby at the end. Charlotte loved it too.
(Later, Sarah wanted nothing to do with it and demanded that I take it back to the store and read her one of her old books. Can’t please everybody. Especially her.)
While at Half Price Books I stumbled upon another book that has been on my (somewhat faded) mental list of books to buy if I run across them cheap (cheap books, yes, I know, many of you are shuddering, what can I say though – I could write a whole blog post on how I let go of feeling like I needed a large collection of books to prove I was an avid reader – I’m a library and used book kinda gal now).
Anyways… the other book is Frederick, by Leo Lionni, and I first learned of it by reading my college friend Joe’s blog.
Have you read Joe’s blog? You must. He writes all these lists of his favorite things (childhood memories, TV shows, albums, currently he’s doing his 50 favorite movies). If you are in your late 30s, his blog is an especially enjoyable, and quite humorous, treat. (If you are not in your late 30s, you can totally check it out and enjoy too – no age discrimination here, people.)
Goodness I’m full of tangents today.
While reading Frederick, I couldn’t help but think that maybe Charlotte, when she is in a quiet, appears-to-be-tuned-out kind of place, perhaps then she is storing up sun rays and colors for later, for a time when they’ll be needed most. Words too.
A happy thought with which to end.
Remember a few days ago how I blithely and confidently write that Charlotte is doing awesome at school? And she is. No doubts.
She and I attended a birthday party today, however, and I started to feel reminded of her differences. She’s not socializing with the other kids. She keeps wandering off by herself. She’s standing apart from her peers (oh, the horror).
For awhile there I started to really get down. Why doesn’t she run and play and cavort with these kids? These kids who she doesn’t know other than the birthday girl herself, who is busy playing with the kids she knows from school and who all know one another.
Well now that just changed everything.
Where did I get this idea that Charlotte needed to accomplish some random and arbitrary goal of x number of minutes of social interaction at a birthday party with a bunch of kids she’s never met before?
In the midst of my sinking into sadness over this realization that Charlotte wasn’t doing what the other kids were doing, I started paying a little more attention (is that even possible?).
No, she wasn’t cavorting with the other 4 and 5 year olds, but likewise none of them greeted me or any other adult at the party. Charlotte, meanwhile, went up to every adult and introduced herself and inquired of their name.
I just can’t see it as something to worry about that she opted to hang, primarily, with me and the other adults. Plus there were babies and she needed to ask if they were covered in blood when they were born (this is of utmost concern to Charlotte).
This leads to my thought processes on letting go of the idea of typical or normal (a continual thought-in-process). I subtitled this blog discovering our version of typical because I don’t like the idea of working toward a pre-determined definition of typical. What is typical? Average? Who wants to be average?
Not me.
Not me anymore, that is. I used to spend a fair amount of time trying very hard not to stand out from the crowd. Not in a give-in-to-peer-pressure kind of way, but in a don’t-do-anything-outside-the-norm kind of way.
Being Charlotte’s mom, though, is opening my eyes to the fact that ‘the norm’ is not really a goal worth aiming for.
It’s old and tired and cliche to say vive la difference, but it’s so important to heed that command. I have to tell myself this all the time.
My nature is one that lends to sameness and not standing out. Probably a set of learned behaviors, but not lessons worth passing on.
So next time we’re at a party, and Charlotte is chatting it up with the adults while a group of kids plays nearby, I’m going to resist the urge to push her to go play with “her friends” (especially when she might not even know them). Instead, I’m going to vive la difference and just let her be.
Sometimes a person should just be allowed to be.
It seems like everything in my life lately is a trade off of one sort or another. It feels impossible to have everything that I want. So I prioritize and make lists of what is most important right now, while keeping the long term view in mind, and act accordingly.
There are the big trade offs (like staying home vs working and earning an income and therefore contributing to retirement and long-term savings), and the little trade offs (lots of driving this year so that Sarah can attend preschool and I get some quality time alone with Charlotte).
Have I told you about my quality time with Charlotte? Sarah is in morning preschool 2 days a week, opposite of Charlotte’s afternoon Kindergarten. Those 2 days I feel like I spend half my day in the car, but I get 2 mornings a week of just me and Charlotte. We are both loving it. She moves her booster seat up from the 3rd row in the back so she can sit nearer to me. She has me turn the CD player off so we can talk. I knew that it would mean a lot more time on the road, but the trade off for the quality time with Charlotte (which we haven’t had since Sarah’s arrival) makes the driving worth it (sorry, environment).
There are the complicated trade offs (special diet which means more work for me and less convenience opportunities, but results in a girl who is lots of ways different than before the special diet).
My favorite kind of trade off is the pleasant one like where Sarah now takes an afternoon nap while Charlotte is at school. I used to like her non-napping ways because she always went to bed earlier. She’s up later now, but I get 1 to 1 1/2 hours to myself each afternoon … heaven.
Then there is the trade off that is outside the sphere of my control. Charlotte is doing awesome at school. Awesome. She is far exceeding my expectations in every way. I had a brief meeting with her team at school and the net take-away from them is that Charlotte does not stand out as different from her classmates. Every day her communication notebook says that she had another great day.
Awesome!
So what’s the trade off, you ask?
Home, not so good. Defiance is rearing its ugly head. I hear from my friends of same-aged kids that this is what they are experiencing too. Arguing. Lots of it.
“W-w-w-w-w-wait!!”
“No no no no no no no no NO!” (Apparently the louder this is said, the more effective she thinks it will be.)
“Mommy, stop talking! Close your mouth! I am talking now!” (Add a little sass in with the defiance.)
“Mommy, if you tell me no I am going to get angry and big upset.” (Thanks for the warning, kid, but the answer is still no.)
You know how we parents posit that our kids have tantrums because they don’t have the words to express themselves. It’s true!
Now that she’s clicking with using words to express her frustration and/or anger, the tantrums are slowing down. It actually works when I say, “Charlotte you don’t have to kick and scream and throw yourself on the floor if you don’t want to do something, you can just tell me. Use your words.”
(Believe me, we still have our fair share of tantrums, especially when she doesn’t like the answer I give her, but we’re working on it.)
But! She’s doing awesome at school. Last year she just WAS at school. Not great, not bad. Just there. Never fully engaged with the class or teachers. At home, things were a thousand times better. Why can’t they see what we see? we’d lament.
That has flipped and she is present and engaged and learning at school. Yay! The trade off has been a kid who is far more challenging to handle at home. But that’s okay. Far better we work those things out here than with a behavioral intervention plan at school.
Trade offs. Some good, some great. Some difficult. Fortunately, they are proving to be worth it.
Charlotte is going through a strange food phase. At least, I hope it’s just a phase.
She has always been a good eater – not too picky, generally ate good, healthy portions although sometimes I would be surprised at the amount of food she could eat for such a little person. She doesn’t have the widest repertoire, but she eats a good balance of veggies, protein, fruit and grains.
(The same can NOT be said of Sarah.)
A month or so ago she stopped wanting to eat breakfast. Nothing would entice her to eat. It was the middle of summer and we didn’t have too many busy mornings, so I didn’t push it. Often we ate an early lunch at 11 and a generous snack later in the afternoon.
Around the same time, or very shortly after, I began phasing gluten out of her diet (we opted not to go cold turkey).
For the last two weeks that she has been completely gluten free, her diet has been the pits. There was one day she ate nothing but strawberries, a rice cake and a pickle. I would ask her if she was hungry and she would just say no.
Occasionally she asked for chicken nuggets, or toast, but she easily accepted no as the answer.
I’m not sure if the tide is turning, but the last 2 days she has eaten a little better. At least one whole meal each day, but otherwise just picking at her food. This is much better than the 12 days previous.
My gut tells me that the diminished appetite and the gluten removal are not related, but I am not entirely sure. It could be related. I don’t know how long before we’ll see any changes from the gluten free diet (she is also casein free as well).
That’s one of the challenges when parenting a child with Autism – often she simply does not have the language to tell me how she feels physically and so I’m left to just guess.
One of Charlotte’s great loves is bread. Loves it. For the longest time, her breakfast of choice was bread and butter. She had slowed down her bread consumption before we started the diet, but it was something she still very much enjoyed.
Because of this, the search was on for a good gluten free bread. Preferably brown and whole grain as that is what she likes.
After trying a few different mixes that tasted good to me but were rejected by Charlotte, I decided to look for recipe I can make from scratch using my new bread maker.
After digging around on the Internet, I found a recipe for GF Multi-Grain Sandwich Bread, at one of my favorite blogs.
Delicious! Three out of four of us in the house loved it. Charlotte, the one we NEED to love it, wouldn’t even try it. Gah!
I don’t think the reason she won’t try it has anything to do with the appearance of the bread. I suspect she is afraid she’s allergic. We have used the term “allergic” to say why she can’t have certain foods anymore. Even though I’ve told her this bread does not have any wheat in it, she still won’t try it. It will probably take more time.
Meanwhile, my husband and I are thrilled to have a gluten free bread that we both LOVE!
Motor planning “delays” (is it a delay or something else entirely different?) are part and parcel for many an ASD or otherwise developmentally different kid.
We take a new skill and break it into smaller chunks to help our kid learn it. Riding bikes, swinging, swimming, the list goes on and on. I am doing it with learning to tie shoelaces right now. Charlotte can cross the laces like an X, and she can put one of the laces under the X. Next we have to “Pull!” and we’ll be on our way!
Theory is that we help our kids build their confidence level by enabling them to have small successes. “Great job! You are pumping your legs on the swing! You did it!” Then we start showing how to move the upper body back and forth to actually keep the swing moving (still working on that in this house).
I’ve noticed that breaking things down into smaller parts is effective with Sarah too. Not just with developing a new skill (she seems to pick up those up quite handily) but in accomplishing a first. Today at her first dance lesson, she didn’t want me to leave the room. So I sat with her along the wall, then we started doing the motions together. I inched us toward the rest of the class and eventually slowly backed up to the wall. She still wasn’t thrilled that I wasn’t right there with her, but she participated without me by her side. Next week I’ll try to start out with me against the wall and her in the group. Maybe eventually I’ll be able to sit on the bench outside the room and watch. Whatever works for Sarah and Charlotte is my motto.
If breaking things into smaller tasks and parts works for Sarah and Charlotte, might it not work on dear old Mom too?
Goal – Healthier Living.
First I needed a success – a confidence booster. If I can accomplish one small goal, then I can move on to another. So I quit my daily Coke (a cola, people) habit. No more reliance on those empty 140 calories as my afternoon pick me up. I loved my daily Coke. Loved it. The caffeine, the sugar, the carbonation.
But, still, I have long wanted to give up what I consider to be an unhealthy habit.
One week later, with a little lotta help from the just perfect glass(es) of Iced Tea, I was over my addiction. No longer craving my daily fix of high fructose corn syrup and caramel color – I had succeeded!
On to the next step – going to bed early. It’s one of my biggest downfalls. I am a night owl. If I don’t go to bed early, I can’t get up early. And then I’m tired and run down all day (thus requiring more caffeine and intensifying my craving). I focused on an earlier bedtime for a week and grew to crave something new -sleep. Wow, so this is what it feels like to be rested. I like it!
From there I went to carving out 10 minutes a day to do some physical activity. In order to be successful there, I put my work out clothes on first thing in the morning. And my tennies. That way, when the opportunity to hop on the treadmill presents itself, I am ready. Also it got my kids used to seeing me exercise and they began accepting that as part of Mommy’s routine. Inotherwords, they learned to leave me alone.
So now I’ve given up a bad habit, I’m going to bed earlier, and I’m exercising 10 minutes a day. What next?
Increase the exercise. Do you have any idea how easy it was to go from 10 minutes to 30 minutes when I had all those other habits in place. It was like nothing.
This is my 3rd week of exercising (at least) 30 minutes a day! This week so far I am 3 for 3 days! The famed and all-knowing “they” say it takes 4 weeks to develop a new habit. I am on my way!
… that I am looking forward to is Sarah starting preschool next week. I believe that Charlotte needs some quality mommy time, and that Sarah needs some quality non-Mommy time.
… that I am extremely relieved about is that Charlotte is handling Kindergarten very well. Notes from both the general ed and special ed teachers say that she is adjusting fine, following directions, and having fun.
… that I am frustrated with is my apparently inability to teach my children appropriate expressions of anger. And by appropriate, I mean just about anything that doesn’t involve screaming, hitting, etc.
… that I wonder about is when do sisters stop fighting over their toys.
… that I found amusing was when Sarah asked me to read a book about Thanksgiving, but she called it the Happy Pie Giving book.
… that I find challenging is coming up with a variety of meals that are free of gluten and casein. Seriously, our repertoire of meals is boring.
… that I am hopeful about is that the regular, busy routine we will start next week will provide some much needed structure.
… that I find really adorable is that Sarah named her baby “Ick.” Ick. Really. It kinda grows on you after awhile.
… that I am pondering is new and different sensory diet activities for Charlotte. She seems to need something lately, although I’m not sure exactly what. The standbys just aren’t cutting it anymore.
… that I am thankful for is a network of good friends in the blogosphere. It really helps to have people who just get it.
This post could be about how articulately Charlotte answered a question about school today. We would celebrate her language skills, you would send me virtual high-fives, I would tell everyone who asked (and some who didn’t) how that was the best response I’ve ever gotten to the “how was your day” question.
Truly, some of her language today was spot-on. She is becoming so articulate. Her usage of grammar, her politeness, her (at times) bordering on verboseness, her specificity. Remarkable. She sounds like a, dare I say it, little adult.
I would end the post with a forward-looking, somewhat pithy statement about how bright her future is and how far she’s come.
All of that would be true. All of it is true.
But that’s not the whole picture.
It leaves out the countless times she didn’t respond to me at all. The times she wandered away while I was mid-sentence. The many, many times she didn’t even turn her head to acknowledge me calling her name.
That post would ignore the tantrum over wanting a chocolate cookie before lunch. And how I was *this* close to sending her to school without lunch but eventually chose to compromise so she wouldn’t be hungry.
There’s more, but it’s really just more of the same. A tantrum here. Some defiance there. My mom stopped by today and commented that lately it seems Charlotte’s defiance is getting stronger. She’s not defiant more often, just more defianter (new word).
Today, though, all of those things that I don’t normally write about on this blog, today it felt like a lot.
It felt discouraging.
I won’t lose sight of the good communication though. Of how she told me that she went to music class and Mrs. M was the teacher and listened to them sing and they played musical instruments.
And I will hang on to how she knew the last name of one of the kids in her class which must mean she’s paying attention and isn’t just overwhelmed by it all.
And I won’t forget how polite she was when her Daddy asked her a question while she was eating a popsicle and she told him, ‘Just a minute, Daddy, I’m still licking my popsicle.”
All good communication. Every syllable etched in my mind.
But today was still hard. It was tiring.
All I wanted was to get through a simple conversation about what to have for lunch. Or dinner.
Is that too much to ask?
For now, maybe.
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