She doesn’t understand, I don’t understand

Just before leaving for preschool one morning a few weeks ago…

“Momma, mah-key kag-roo pak-pak pwease.”

“You want monkey and kangaroo in your backpack?” I asked. She doesn’t have a stuffed kangaroo so I was confused and my repeating her request wasn’t just to have her hear the words pronounced properly and in a properly structured sentence. I was hoping for further information even though I never get it. I still hold out hope from time to time.

“Yes pwease!” She said happily.

“Honey, what kangaroo are you talking about?” I didn’t want to say “yes” to something that might not fit in her backpack or that I didn’t want her to risk losing at school.

“Yes pwease!” She said jumping up and down, “Yes pwease!”

“Wait sweetie, I don’t understand. What kangaroo do you want to bring? Can you show me?”

She began to get frustrated that I wasn’t just saying “yes” or “no” to her request and that her “Yes please” wasn’t doing the magic, so she went through her rolodex of canned politeness. She rolled her eyes up to remember how to say the whole sentence, “May have mah-key kag-roo pak-pak?…Pah-wee-ze!”

I tried so hard not to just laugh that I almost snorted. She didn’t understand that I did not understand what kangaroo she was talking about. She seems to think that if I understand the words that she’s using that I must also understand which of her seven hundred monkey items she wants. The child has about seven stuffed monkeys, a set of monkey PJs, flash cards with monkeys on them, books with monkeys. The kangaroo really stumped me. She has some alphabet flash cards with a Kangaroo for “K”, but that’s about all that I know.

“Ok fine, as long as it fits in your backpack.” I cringed. I also hope it’s not something expensive that might get lost at school. It turned out that she wanted to bring her “Brain Quest” cards. The cards for ages 2 to 3 have a monkey on them and the cards for 3 to 4 have a mouse which looks like a kangaroo to her. Whew! Yep, those can go to school.

brain quest

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Wading through the deep end seemingly alone

The day didn’t start well, but that’s not always the end all indicator of things to come. I’m on my toes and walking on egg shells almost all the time. Will this set her off? Will that?

Last week Sophia started swimming class at the preschooler level. She did really well especially considering she hasn’t ever met this particular instructor. She made Kurt hang out at the edge of the pool for the first half of the session, but then he left and sat by me on the bench closest to her. Sophia actually participated a little. She even let the teacher take her and swim around a little. Sophia seemed a little confused about the teacher being in charge and not me telling her what to do next. After each little song or activity Sophia would climb out of the pool and coming up to us for reassurance. We had to keep telling her to go listen to the teacher so she would know what was coming next, but I was happy. I think she took to the change very well.

It wasn’t the same yesterday. She didn’t want to get her swimsuit on before leaving for class. She didn’t want to get dressed, eat, put her shoes on, or get in the car. Each step was another struggle. We frequently have these mornings and there is always a chance the testy beginning won’t continue throughout the day. This was not one of those lucky days.

Once we arrived at the pool Sophia happily took off her clothes and waited for class to start, but then she didn’t want to go in the pool. Kurt and I had agreed the night before that after her swimming class we would go to IHOP as we did the week before, so I told Sophia, “If you get in and swim with the teacher you can have chocolate milk.”

“Choket miwk.” She said with a huge smile on her face. She turned and practically ran to the pool, but then stopped abruptly. Kurt finally somehow coxed her into the pool and then we again had the chore of trying to get her to stay there with the teacher. Each time it was her turn to kick around the pool the teacher would extend the offer and Sophia would refuse and climb out again. It was getting close to the end of class and Kurt asked the instructor to take Sophia for a short swim on her turn instead of waiting for her to warm up. That did not go well. She began crying and immediately climbed out of the pool.

We went to her and told her how great she did swimming with the teacher but she continued crying as if we weren’t even there. It’s all very normal for her to cry as if she’s in a whole other world apart from the rest of us. She doesn’t seek comfort from us at all when she’s in this state. All we can do is wait for it to be over.

We went to IHOP and Sophia not only got her chocolate milk but a large size one just like mom’s. Last week it took a lot of convincing that there was actually chocolate milk in the kid cup just like in mom’s glass, so we thought it would be easier if we just ordered the same thing for both of us. As usual, we were wrong. Nothing goes over smoothly not even treats. It’s really irritating and exhausting. Sophia began waving her hands and saying, “All done. Ready go now.”

After a while she calmed down and just sat there. Our food arrived; we offered her pancakes anything we knew she would eat. She didn’t want any of it. She mumbled something that we just couldn’t decode and as usual the harder we tried the more upset she became. I heard the word “wed” meaning “red” in one of her responses and thought maybe she was referring to the red crayon she was given with the kids coloring placemat. That wasn’t it. I followed her eyes and looked across the table from her at the only other red item. The ketchup, the condiments. You’ve got to be kidding me! Every single time we go out to eat she wants to arrange the condiments on the table, but she couldn’t reach them this time. I placed the ketchup, bowl of sugar packets, and the salt and pepper shakers in front of her. She arranged them all along with her crayons and folded place mat in her own specific order in front of her and then she could drink her chocolate milk. The chocolate milk meant as a fun and special treat.

Kurt and I exchanged looks and I just wanted to cry. I think I was perpetually holding back tears all day. You can’t tell me this is normal behavior for a three year old. I know everyone is different. Don’t fucking tell me we’re all different. I’m fine with different and even difficult. I don’t even mind a challenge but jesusfuckingchritalready this is so far beyond that. I’m perpetually on eggshells! I’ve only given a tiny appetizer of her quirks.

I have no worries that when she grows up she’ll be able to find a significant other that will love her quirks and all. She’ll have kids if she wants and if she chooses, a fantastic career in some heavily mathematical, science, engineering, or computer programming type field. But right now she’s driving me absolutely crazy!

chocolate milk at IHOP

Picture take 10/20/2010.

 November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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First Three-word Phrase

Thursday last week, Kurt took Sophia for a walk around the block and at thirty-one months, she finally uttered her first three-word phrase. She said it four times on their walk. Kurt came home and asked me, “Have you been brainwashing our daughter?”

“Uh, no, why?”

Her first phrase was, “I want puppy.” And she really hasn’t let up on the topic either.

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Speech therapy, I waited for this?

With every question I had after every pre-therapy hoop, I was told I’d have to ask the speech therapist. Almost two full months after Sophia’s qualifying evaluation for speech therapy I finally got an appointment and then the day before it was to happen I received a cancellation call. The therapist was sick, but I didn’t care. I was pissed as hell all day. All the hoops, all the forms, prior evaluations, first time consultations with occupational therapists, meetings over expectations, all we really wanted was this one therapy.

We are sure that if we could just get Sophia talking many of our other frustrations would be minimized. It took two months to get the appointment despite having good, nay awesome insurance. They couldn’t just assign a different speech therapist to come to our home or have me go to the office though they say it’s not as effective. I don’t care. Just get me into the final phase of the system!

I received a call the following Monday, the day before we were to leave for a week for Christmas in Michigan, and was asked if we could meet in two hours. Absolutely! Every first time meeting is just a head-nod getting-to-know-you session and this one was no different. I wasn’t impressed and I don’t think she likes me much either.

I got the feeling that she didn’t see Sophia as a valid case since I was beaming over new words she picked up over the week in Hawaii. She seemed to forget that I signed up for this shit two months prior and at the time Sophia had less than twenty words. All through the therapy session, the tips and pointers she gave to helping Sophia to speak were pissing me off. “Use short, simple phrases,” “Add descriptive words to the words she says.” “Ask her questions.” “Give her choices.” I’m sure there are some people that completely ignore their child all day and then wonder why the child doesn’t speak. I’m not one of those. I didn’t give any acknowledgment to the therapists suggestions. Her tone wasn’t at all condescending but the fact that those were her main tips made it sound like anyone with a two year old who doesn’t speak must be an inept parent and fucking idiot. Either that or this therapy is a joke. Seriously, if better tricks don’t come out of the bag next time I’m going to forget about the speech part of Sophia’s therapy.

The therapist began to give examples of questions I should ask Sophia as if I couldn’t come up with them on my own. Actually, she was trying to explain how to make talking fun for Sophia. “Is this blue?” She asked Sophia holding up a red Tyco Super Block (big Legos for toddlers). I had just explained to her that Sophia was using signs from her Signing Time video that she didn’t seem to understand. Red, was one of the signs. I waited to give Sophia a chance to answer. Sophia moved on with whatever was going through her toddler head without any acknowledgment that a question was even asked of her.

That form of questioning really makes my ass twitch. I have no idea what I was really like at the age of two. I do have memories from that age, but I don’t know if I was talking or how much. I told the therapist that Sophia isn’t just a lot like me, she is mini-me. Several friends have commented that her attitudes are mine exactly. I know that Sophia is only two and may not actually know the answer to the question, but in continuing to give some background in how Sophia I think, I told the therapist that when I was little I always thought people that asked that type of question were stupid. With a touch of contempt in her voice she said, “Well some kids think it’s fun.” Clearly, I hit a nerve. She continued to tell me that she wouldn’t use that sort of question with say, a seven year old. In the specific memory I have of being asked such a question I wasn’t seven. I was four. I was just trying to give her some insight into our attitude, so bite me.

Sophia started throwing a ball around the room and the therapist said the word “ball” to her. Sophia then said ball for the first time. “Wow,” I said, “I guess I’ll be adding that one to the list.” I was informed by the therapist that, “the tend pick up words spontaneously like that after they’ve reached fifty words”. Indicating that my count must me off. Including the new word of the day, she only had 37 words at the time. I’m not counting the signs she picked up from her video because she really doesn’t seem to know what they mean. For her they all are ways to tell me she wants to watch the video again and that’s it.

Sophia got to be a bit of a pest with her ball. She kept saying, “ball” and started throwing a ball AT me. I asked her not to do that and she said, “dahp et” The therapist and I both laughed, “yes,” I said, “you need to stop it.”

I told the therapist of my attempts at getting Sophia to talk including the four months (between the ages of 18 and 22 months) I didn’t give her anything (aside from scheduled meals) unless she signed or asked for it. I wasn’t responding to finger pointing or grunts anymore if I knew she had a word or a sign for a particular want. In an almost snotty tone she asked, “and how did that go for you?” I really wanted to be a smart ass and ask her if it wasn’t obvious since there is a speech therapist standing in my house, but I refrained. I’m such a big girl…sometimes. I told her it resulted in a lot of tantrums and joked, “but I can be stubborn too.”

“Well you reap what you sow.” She told me. Seriously, what a bitch! I didn’t ask what she meant by that and she didn’t offer any explanation, but I didn’t take it as anything positive. I have another appointment with her next week. I’m fuckin’ overjoyed.

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Chilling Discoveries

Sophia and I went to one of the many classes I’ve signed up for her today and we were the only ones there. Since we still had another step in Sophia’s evaluations, the instructor asked if we could just complete that while I was there. Absolutely! Anything to move forward with diagnosis and treatment works for me.

I was asked a ton of questions, and for the things I was unsure about we brought Sophia into the sensory room so that her actions and reactions could be observed. They really need to rename that room to the 70’s room. All it was missing was some gaudy-colored shag carpet. It had the mirror wall, beanbags, and bubbling tube of water that changes color with the press of a button that closely resembled a lava lamp. A disco ball and some roller skates could have also completed the picture.

The good news is that she saw absolutely no form of autism in Sophia. I feared that label. Many people equate autism to extreme social awkwardness tied in with superhuman counting skills and a series of odd phobias (AKA Rain Man syndrome) even though there is a varying range to which this behaviors show up. I didn’t want that stigma attached to her. I mean who does, right?

I was given a bunch of handouts to read and assess which things seem to fit Sophia and in reading one of them, I found me. It’s creepy how specific the description was and how well it fit me. It wasn’t like reading a horoscope, “You’ll find your true love soon.” And after weeks of searching you decide that it must have meant the dog you fell in love with at the pound. This was specific even in describing the vision problems I have despite my perfect eyesight.

 November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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