Bataan Toddler Death March

I enrolled Sophia in a week-long, day camp especially for kids with developmental delays and their siblings. Last week was her week to go. The night before her first day, I tucked her into bed and told her about the camp she was going to go to, and all the things they might do at camp. I left out the part about her doing all these things with someone other than mom or dad. The day of, I spent the morning telling her about camp. That day was probably not a good day to start something new for Sophia. She was having one of those days, which I call a “mellow” day. It’s the sort of day where she spends most of her time curled up with “friend”. One of those days in which, if we’re out in public, I receive many comments like, “Oh she looks tired.” or, “Oh she must have just woken up.” Nope, that’s just the way my kid is sometimes. I know most people think, “You’re so lucky to have days like that.” What they don’t realize is that on those days I get more tantrums because those are the same days in which she refuses to talk or even sign. So those people can take their “calm kid” envy and shove it up their collective asses, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Really.

Sophia and I went grocery shopping at our usual chain but a different location than normal, and she calmly sat in the cart with “friend” sucking her thumb. This is not the norm for her. Sitting in a regular cart calmly is not her bag these days and hasn’t been for quite some time now. With groceries in the trunk of the car, I took her to her first day of camp.

When Sophia saw her usual park, she was happy and wanted to go play. I told her I had to use the bathroom first so we went and I made sure she went too because I knew that she was not going to talk or sign the entire day at camp and would probably wind up having an accident. By the time we were done it was time to line up to sign her in so I got her bag and she grabbed “friend”. She hung onto us both for dear life realizing that we were lining up with the crowd. Sophia was swept away by her designated camp buddy. I finished the required paperwork and looked over to where her group was trying to cheer her up. This day was not going to go well at all.

I went home and put the groceries away then spent the next couple of hours looking at the clock every five minutes. Three hours after the toddler drop off; I arrived about fifteen minutes prior to pick up time. I watched from the car as the kids were marched into the building and spotted Sophia. If one only focused on the face of my child, the whole thing would look like a Bataan toddler death march. At precisely four in the afternoon, the parents were allowed to go in and pick up their kids. Sophia spotted me from across the room but aside from wanting to get to me her demeanor didn’t change. Once I reached her, she literally climbed up me. Her buddy said, “It was rough at first, but she had fun after a while.” Sure she did. I knew it going in that the first day would be bad. It always is with Sophia. It’s tough to watch her go through this, but she needs it…badly.

Every parent gets a note for each child about what he or she did and how the day went. It’s rather form like so that nothing is forgotten.

Monday:
Today…
I made a…Pin wheel
I ate a…(this was left blank and Sophia hadn’t eaten since breakfast)
I liked…playing in the preschool room

My day was… (in this part of the form the buddy circles one of three choices: fabulous, good, ok) Sophia’s buddy circled fabulous. Really?

Under comments she wrote, “She had a great 1st day at camp! Monday’s always the toughest! We had a lot of fun in the pool watching others jump off diving board.”

I snapped a picture of Sophia immediately after getting her into the car. I think her look speaks volumes as to how she really felt about her day. Sophia didn’t say a word on the way home, neither a sound nor even a peep. When Kurt saw the picture he said, “She cried the whole time, didn’t she?” I’m guessing at least two hours of it, yes.

In January’s consumer reports, my husband read that none of Honda’s vehicles rate well for road noise reduction. I noticed that in our Civic, but I tell you what it does a hell of a job blocking toddler screams. It reduced that noise at least 80% and I didn’t even mind standing in the rain.

The story behind the 55: A month or month and a half ago Kurt read the Honda ratings to me from Consumer Reports and a couple days later I thought of it when Sophia pitched a fit while I tried to get her in her car seat. I finally got her strapped down and then closed the door. I noticed a huge reduction in noise. Standing in the parking lot of a store, I just relaxed out in the rain for a minute before getting in.

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

I can’t remember what the chaos was all about. I think Sophia had just woken from her nap. She is often very grumpy after a nap even if she wakes on her own. She had a melt down, a tantrum, so bad that Kurt and I just looked at each other knowingly. This was going to be a long few hours before bedtime. She screamed and cried stomping her feet with tears streaming down her face. Inconsolable for quite a while, Sophia finally calmed down sitting in my lap. We were on the couch, and she sucked her thumb with friend, moose, and bear. All was quiet for a moment and then the cat let out a loud whiny, “MEOW”. Sophia pulled her thumb out of her mouth and put her finger to her lips, “SSssshhh”.

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.

No, Sophia doesn’t have jaundice nor has she been smoking dried banana skins. Not that I know of anyway. She has been incredibly mellow for the past couple days though. Mellow, even for her.

The day before yesterday I spent the morning running errands. Sophia became frustrated with getting in and out of the car so I took her to the park to burn off some energy before doing some grocery shopping. She went to the play equipment excitedly but once on it she just stood there like a bump as kids made their way around her. She would wander around the park a bit, then climb on the equipment again, and just stand. I chalked it up to not being fully recovered from her cold. We didn’t stay very long.

Yesterday morning she woke up crying as she did everyday that she was sick. After about five minutes, she went back to sleep for an hour then cried again. I got her up at eight, gave her milk, and made breakfast as usual. She didn’t touch her breakfast.

It was supposed to be my cleaning day so I zoomed up and down the stairs gathering stuff together. Sophia got upset because she could keep up with me so I sat with her and read one of the books she always carries with her. After the third time through the book I told her I had to go clean the house. She wasn’t happy.

It was only 10am and she looked tired. Her tantrum seemed to me like a cry for a nap. I picked her up and put her in her crib with her book. She protested for about five minutes and then either sat quietly plotting my demise or fell asleep. It was completely silent until about three, but even then, I only heard a couple tiny sounds that didn’t seem like a fully awakened toddler.

I had left her there all day with the assumption that she must have needed the sleep, but at Kurt’s urging I got her up at four thirty so that she would still sleep at night. I opened the door to a fully awake toddler, laying on her back, and reading her book. She cuddled with us the rest of the evening. She wasn’t interested in playing at all.