FOUR! or How I Disguised A Sensory Diet Activity as a Birthday Party

ROWAN IS FOUR!!!!!

Question:  How do you plan a birthday party for a sensitive child who is easily overwhelmed by noise and activity?

Solution:  Messy Party!  Rowan has always LOVED getting his hands dirty...I guess you could call him sensory seeking it that area.  It honestly has a calming effect on him.  Soooo.... I filled up a bin full of mud, a bin full of shaving cream, a pool full of bubble stuff, pans of paint next to a big white sheet, and a slip and slide full of soap.  I let the kids go to town. Success!  And fun!  I might have to do this again, just for fun!

  The neighborhood crew got the party started.  Rowan and I came out to find the three older kids with the shaving cream in their hair and on their faces.  I panicked and shouted, "No!  Not in your....oh wait, messy party, carry on."  It was kind of a relief to let go of that.

Painting sheets, selves and each other.

Aidan wants his own messy party!

Shaving cream makes for good hairdos.

A messy hug from the birthday boy.

I think my favorite part of the party was when we were about to sing Happy Birthday, Rowan was the one to start the song.

Yes, that is a dirt and worms dessert in a dump truck.

Happy birthday little Rowie Bear!!!!!

Birthday Emergencies

Just in case you were concerned that the cake might light on fire, or that someone might steal the presents, or that someone might get hurt, don't worry.  The birthday boy is prepared.  This is how we found him sleeping on the eve of his fourth birthday.  All is safe and well.  Age on, little boy. :)

The Look

I don't know why parents are so self conscious about what other people think of our parenting.  We just are.  There are so many styles and methods out there, and though I have always been confident in trusting my intuition over books and methods, I can't help but sometimes wonder if I'm doing it right.

And then there's parenting a kid with SPD.  How do you explain his behavior to strangers?  I can't even explain it to myself at times.  I've toyed with making him a set of t-shirts that say things like "Caution: Overly Sensitive Child" or "Please Don't Talk to Me."  There have been a couple times where I've almost told strangers he's autistic, just because that makes a lot more sense to people than "Oh, sorry, he's got a neurological disorder that impairs his ability to process sensory stimuli in the usual way."  Even the term "sensory issues" doesn't work, as I noted to myself in our last dentist visit.  The hygienist acknowledged it when I said it, and then pretty much did all the things you shouldn't do to a kid with SPD at the dentist, such as rushing him and tipping back the chair without warning him.

Because of this, I am used to "the look."  That raised eyebrow, hairy eyeball kind of stare that you get when your kid takes his shoes off and refuses to put them back on at the restaurant.  Or you are sitting on him in the checkout line.  Or he has just hit another child for not playing the game the right way. (Oh, that was horrible.  I think I apologized 327 times.)  Along with the look comes under the breath muttered comments.  Such as the lady at the McDonald's Playland who did not appreciate Rowan's loud sustained high pitched (happy) scream.  "Jesus," she said, "Someone needs to get that kid out of here."  I shot my own look at her, and briefly thought about educating her.  Bah.  Not worth the effort.  I've become much like the duck getting water thrown at it.  I just let it roll off my back.  I know what I need to do for my kid, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

Imagine my delight when I got the opposite look yesterday.  We were swimming at the river and Rowan was being SO happy, chatty and social.  He was swimming up to strangers and making all kinds of friends.  I later found out that he had offered his name, age and the fact that he had a birthday coming up to a couple of moms.  He was also encouraging a 4 year old girl, who was fearful of the water, to go swimming.  And apparently being really sweet about it.  This is the kid who usually won't talk to any strangers, let alone answer questions.  One mom in particular kept smiling at me and giving me a look that said, "How cute, charming, and polite your child is!"  And though I try not to put too much weight in those looks, I let this one count.

Summer in the Key of Rain

Summer is not what I expected it to be so far this year.

It started off with the news of a new job, the knowledge that I wouldn't be "tied down" by my summer job at the cafe, and the prospect of sunny days ahead.  It started on a high note.

Then it rained.  And rained, and rained and rained.  When it wasn't raining, it was cold and foggy.  A gray cloud hung over our fair city for what seemed like a month.  And then it moved into our house.   And my brain.  I have a serious case of bad-itude.

If living with a child with SPD has taught me anything, it is to expect the unexpected.  Know there will be ups and downs, and there is no such thing as a consistent pattern or cycle.  I assumed summer would be easy for my little guy: so much freedom, and fun and running around.  You know what they say, when you assume, you make a...well, you know.

Turns out that the same kid who needed the structure and routine during the school year also needs it for summer too.  Huh, go figure.  Wasn't the case last summer.  But then again, it didn't rain for 453 days straight.  I've been bitten 5 times, scratched about 15 times, kicked, screamed at, and am thinking about buying a helmet for Aidan and also one for the dog.  Loss of control has ensued.

After about 7 days of being cooped up, we ventured out to the local children's museum.  It was filled with crabby kids and their crabby parents, who obviously were feeling much like us.  Another day we went to the library, where just as we arrived a daycare full of crabby kids and their crabby providers poured in. The weather got the best of all of us.  Dan came home at the end of one of those days and I think I was catatonic.  I had reached the low point of my bad-itude.

But, as always, when you reach the low, you can only go up.  I have a plan.  Picture schedules and social story notebooks have resumed their positions in the rooms of our house.  One expert told us if your child seems like they're doing better, DON'T put the social stories and supports away.  They are doing better because the supports are working.  I ignored this advice and resolve to not do so again.

I am not the person with the plan, usually, but now I will have to be.  Lounge around in our jammies time this summer will be replaced by get 'em up and get 'em out.  We had an almost nice day yesterday (over 50 degrees, not raining).  My goal was to not be home all day.  Mission accomplished.  It was busy, and a lot of work, but MAN, did we have a hill of fun AND brotherly love.

I have my plan in place, my goal is set.  I will turn this negative cycle and bad-itude around.  Now, I just need the sun to come out.  (Oh, man...was that thunder?)

Hoping to see more fire truck and bike washes in the front yard soon!