accepting regression

Day 3 of hitting, kicking, screaming, eloping, throwing his backpack and lunchbox at school drop off.  On day 1, Monday, I wasn't sure what had happened.  We had a really tough weekend and when we walked into the class, I saw behavior I haven't seen in weeks.  His teacher met us in the hallway when she heard the commotion, and I left to find the therapist because he seemed to be manageable.  I walked around the building and ended up coming through the office, where they have screens to see all the areas of the school.  I watched in horror as he hit our sweet teacher, and then when his therapist intervened, he became very physical with her.  As much as I wanted to go and stop his antics, I knew in my ABA mindset that if I "rescued" him, he would pull this behavior again because it functioned as his escape.  So I just watched...until he bolted from the school into the parking lot.  I quickly ran as he was basically being tackled by our therapist and he had a hand on her hair when I gave him the direction to stand against the wall.  I could tell by the look on his face that he was surprised to see me, but couldn't tell if this rage had affected him at all.  His IOP therapists used to tell me that his "rages" were atypical for kids on the spectrum- he would have a multitude of behaviors and then they would stop...and it was almost as if he didn't have control of his body.  I talked with his therapist while we waited for him to calm down against the wall and she agreed that this behavior was not in the norm...so I told him we were going to the doctor.  I was convinced something was wrong...you can't flip the switch that fast from walking into a classroom excited to see your friends, to eloping into the parking lot to escape the very same situation you enjoyed the week prior.

Taking him away from school was a difficult decision- again, working with the ABA principles, I was saving him from what his non-preferred activity...so if I took him home after his big rage, would he do the same thing tomorrow in an attempt to be able to leave again?  Weighing the pros and cons, I took him home.  I told him we were only doing school work.  I made him sit at the kitchen table with NO reinforcers and work on his math, reading, and writing- mainly writing (which he HATES).  I didn't want anything about a day of school at home to be considered "fun."  We followed the same schedule, eating at the same time, resting on his rest mat...

Mommy school is SO boring...

 

I took them to the doctor that afternoon and I have to say I sensed the "crazy mom" vibe.  I just know with past experiences that internal disarray causes behavior...and I was convinced that something HAD to be wrong.  I don't want to be accused of Munchausen by proxy (where the parents are making up illnesses in their children)...it pains me to have him scream when his throat and nose get swabbed.  I hate to think about possible infection with every blood draw.  But I WOULD NOT put my child through all of these trials if I didn't have valid reasoning.

 

 

The tests were negative.  Strep, flu, and whooping cough (we were indirectly exposed). 

 

 

This morning Hunter woke up at 5:20, and I heard Peyton crying at the same time.  I laid down with Hunter in an attempt to get him back to sleep, and then went to Peyton's room to see what was wrong with him (Peter is out of town).  I ended up bringing a coughing Peyton into my bed and that's how this day started.  Add in the physical aggression at drop off (hard enough slaps to have stinging arms twenty minutes later) and a potty accident in the car seat by Peyton's own type of regression (second time in a week to have to take the car seat apart and wash it)...and I was ready to throw my hands up on this parenting thing this week. 

 

But then I saw Peyton closing his eyes as we pulled in.  I knew he must be sleepy from waking so early...so I cleaned him up, put some jammies on him, and held him on my chest on the guest bed.  He snuggled up in a fetal position and as I sang his request (Help Me Find It) and stroked his hair, he quickly fell asleep in my arms. 

 

And that is what this parenting thing is all about. 

 

Being on my own this week, I have been so behind in housework, bills, work-work (three evaluations that need written reports, monthly summaries), correspondence...but I could not force myself to get up from that bed.  I haven't had one of my "babies" fall asleep on me in so long...and it brought back the reminder of the innocence of these sweet children and the naivety that I had so long ago.  I never once imagined having to tell myself it would be OK to let my child hit me when I dropped him off at school.  I didn't think I would have to rely on therapists to get my son through a school day.  I didn't imagine that my two year old would sit in my lap, look in my eyes, and ask me, "Mama?  Is Hunter mad?  Did Hunter hit you?" and then kiss my arm to take away the sting. 

 

Regression tugs at your heart.  Your fight or flight system is out of whack from the constant ups and downs.  But I have never been told by any of the countless professionals we have seen that this would be an easy journey. 

 

Cindy Morgan wrote a beautiful song, "How Could I Ask For More."  The lyrics remind you to accept life's blessings and be thankful for the simple things, like the snow falling, sounds of children's laughter, being in love...even if that means struggling to get to that point of acceptance and thankfulness. 

 

"So if there's anything I've learned from this journey I'm on...

Simple truths will keep you going, simple love will keep you strong.

Cause there are questions without answers, flames that never die

and heartaches we go through are often blessings in disguise.

So thank you, Lord....How could I ask for more?"

 

Link below for the video :)

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHHjvNDAXAQ