Ryan
On Friday morning, I took Ryan to my family doctor to get a referral to Dr. Morgan, a pediatrician in our area who specializes in children with autism. I could not believe how well this appointment went.
- It was pouring rain on the way there, and it stopped just as we arrived and walked to the building.
- Ryan, who is usually terrified of elevators, only shivered a little on the way up. He also, adorably, grabbed a stranger's hand. Luckily, that stranger was a kind, pregnant lady who thought he was precious and let him hold her hand the whole way up, while reassuring him that he was safe.
- There was no wait to see the doctor. This was a miracle. Her office is usually about 1.5 hours behind. Somehow, we had the last appointment of the day (they only do half-days on Friday), and they took us right in. We waited in the examining room for about 5 minutes.
- Ryan wasn't at all afraid of her when she came in. He usually freaks out as soon as he sees the doctor's white coat. On the contrary, he was all smiles and very vocal.
- I told the doctor why we came, asked for the referral, explained why we needed it, and she said, "I don't think Dr. Morgan's taking new patients, but we'll push a little bit. I'm sure she'll make an exception for you."
- She listened to Ryan's chest with the stethoscope while he sat on my lap, and he was completely calm. He even tapped on the chest piece, and she thought it was cute, like he was tapping along with his heartbeat.
- And that was it. We left, with the knowledge the referral will be made for us. Ryan was once again only mildly agitated on the elevator ride down, and a kind, elderly lady talked him through the experience the way I would do. Strangers are so unexpectedly supportive sometimes. <3
On Friday afternoon, after a nice lunch break and some playtime at home, I took Ryan to the John McGivney Children's Centre to see the physiotherapist who assessed him at JK. She had recommended we get some therapeutic inserts for his shoes to help correct his flat feet and low foot tone (my other kids had that issue, too, but it was treated and resolved at a much younger age). Thankfully, that appointment went well, too.
- Ryan enjoyed the spacious and toy-filled Family Waiting Room. He especially liked the table with built-in spinning gears.
- He was a little nervous when we went into the PT room and sat on a treatment bench, but settled when L. talked to him soothingly and assured him we were just going to play with his shoes and look at his feet.
- We tried a few pairs, but finally found some inserts that fit his shoes.
- We struggled to remove the factory inserts from his shoes, and discovered a pile of sand hidden underneath in the process.
- She teased Ryan about his sweaty feet. (Again, all my kids have this. They inherited it from Daddy.)
- We got the therapeutic inserts in and had him walk around a bit to try them out. He was unsure at first, and walking kind of awkwardly, so she brought out a ball for him to kick and chase. He soon forgot the weird sensation and was walking and running in a way that pleased the PT.
- We had to take an elevator upstairs and pay for the inserts. The PT saw Ryan's hesitation and talked him through it, encouraging him to pay attention and press the buttons for us. She also let him hold her hand, so he had one hand in each of ours. I see now that he feels more secure in the elevator when both of his hands are being held. He only trembled and whined a little on the way back down.
Andrea
Andrea is starting to get a lot of pleasure out of having fun with Ryan. She spends much of her time trying to make him giggle with tickles and silly actions. This morning, they were playing together in the boys' room. Ryan climbed down from the bed and plunked himself in her lap. She loved it. I walked in to find Ryan giggling and cuddling with his big sister. I can't put into words what a heartwarming sight that was for me. I hope this special bond they are forming will last a lifetime. I can tell Ryan is starting to regard her as someone he can trust as a helper and a friend.
Andrea is maturing in other ways, too. Physically, she is only about 2 inches shorter and 15 pounds lighter than me! The girl just turned 9 in July! Hello, early bloomer! Eek! She is wearing size 6-8 shoes (depending on the style). I had to take her clothes shopping today because almost nothing in her closet fit anymore. And what a headache that was! Andrea was incredibly patient, and I was incredibly stressed out. This girl doesn't fit in kids' sizes anymore. So, we had to move into the adult department. Yes, my 9-year-old is wearing ladies' size small. Well, sort of. We have the problem of shirts being too low-cut for a little girl and sleeves being too long, but she can barely squeeze into kids' XL. As for pants, her waist fits into ladies' small but her legs are just a little too short for them. Arrghh. Could this poor girl be any harder to fit?! We ended up with 3 pairs of stretchy pants and one sweater, plus 2 pairs of ladies' small pajamas (again, tops a bit low, but hey, it's just pj's for home). Oh, and one more right-of-passage purchase: yes, it's time for training bras. However, again, I had to get something from the petite women's section. Lord, help me. When I got home, I went online and found 3 more tops from Old Navy that I think will work for her and also pulled out some training bras I had purchased a few months ago which, miraculously, appear to fit her for now.
I hate clothes shopping. Especially when I don't know what size to get. And even more especially when my daughter's body can't decide whether it wants to be juvenile or adult. ;p
P.S. Please don't mention to Andrea that I talked about her clothes sizes/shopping and training bras on here. She would be mortified.
Kevin
Oh, my Kevin . . .
If you've kept up with my recent Facebook posts, you'll know he's really struggled this week with his autism and his identity and how it all fits together.
The irony is that the day this all came pouring out of him, I'd had a morning meeting with his ABA Facilitator who said his progress with his emotional regulation programs has been amazing, and that his goals are almost achieved, even though he's still got over a month left in his treatment time. And up to that morning, I totally agreed with her. The combination of his increasing maturity/self-awareness, medication, and the programs appears to have helped him tremendously over the past month. But by that evening, I was cursing our ABA Facilitator. She totally jinxed us that morning with her effusive praise of Kevin's progress. Later that evening, it all went to hell, leading me to post this status on Facebook (I put it here to remind me not to take progress for granted, and to appreciate Kevin's internal conflicts):
Kevin and I are having a rough evening. After hours of arguing with/debating with/cajoling him about not following his electronics-use guidelines, he broke down and asked sadly, tearfully, "Why do I have to do all these programs? Why can't I just be like other kids? Other kids don't have to do this stuff! I want to be normal!"
Talk about a kick in the emotional gut.
I pointed out how all of this is to help him, and emphasized the great progress he's made the past few months, but still ...
He's right. It's NOT fair. I hate these programs, too. I hate that my little boy is unhappy and wants to be like "a normal kid".
F-you, autism.
It's an f-you, autism, kinda night.
It's an f-you, autism, kinda night.
Unfortunately, he continued on with this theme for a few days in a row. It was so emotionally draining . . . for both of us! He would say things like, "But I just want to be a normal kid," and "None of my friends have to do this!" This one just about broke my heart: "But I'm going to try and be like other kids. I promise! I will only play video games a little bit each day. Then I won't need a program."
Oh, Kevin . . . I don't want you to be like other kids. I want you to be the best and happiest YOU that you can be.
Because Kevin can be amazing: so funny, so creative, so smart. When he has a great day, he lights up. Like yesterday, he had an awesome day at school. His teacher even wrote a note in his agenda about what a great day he had. He continues to live up to his nickname of Mr. Math, doing work ahead of his grade level. He's also an excellent reader, and as much as I hate to admit it, it's from reading things on his video games and game videos. He also has a great sense of comedic timing. After I told Rod about Kevin telling his principal that he had to ride to school with no seat-belt on Friday (it broke as we left home), and how embarrassed I was, Kevin shook his head and solemnly lowered it, intoning, "The SHAME." We howled with laughter! (FYI, Kevin got this line from a Pokemon episode we watched earlier in the week.) ;)
Oh, and one from just now: Kevin says, "I have a plan up my sleeve." As he is currently shirtless, Daddy points out, "You don't have any sleeves." Kevin responds, "Well, then I have a plan up my shorts!" ;)
Kevin is starting to interact more with Ryan, too. I think he's following Andrea's lead. He's not as hands-on, but he sometimes talks to Ryan, and he often makes suggestions as to why Ryan's laughing, crying, or what he might need or be thinking. It's great that he's trying to relate to someone else's feelings.
***
Okay, so I guess that's enough for now. There's always more on my mind, but this is just some of the stuff that's come up over the past few days. I'll probably think of something else I wanted to talk about as soon as I finish posting this!
