Camp Capers

Amidst the intensity of John's home program, Sam finished his first week of summer camp...and loved every single minute of it. There were worries: the night before his first day he tossed and turned and would not go to sleep. Finally I went in and he said "Mommy, I'm scared for summer camp." But the next morning dawned and he was game. As soon as he saw the other kids and the toys — so much like his classroom — he barely waved goodbye.

The camp is run by a group of occupational therapists and most kids are on the spectrum somewhere. There are a handful of ADHD and ADD kids too. What's great is they get intense OT and speech 2 to 3 times per week. Talk about immersion. They also are helping Sam regulate his body with something called the "Alert Program" which teaches that the body is like a car engine and sometimes it's slow or fast and sometimes it runs just right. This, of course, turns out to be the best analogy ever, since all things Engine are dear to Sam's heart. All weekend we've been checking in with him and he has the same report: "My engine is fast!"

He is also learning, at last, to ride his tricycle. We've had a shiny new Radio Flyer for over a year that he has not been able to learn, despite our best efforts. But at camp, three people run alongside him to help him turn the pedals and steer. Tae kwon do, swimming, arts & crafts, music & drama, bike riding. He is one tired boy by the time bed time rolls around.

Would you believe that potty training has been a non-issue at camp? He went on the potty all week, even asked to go to the potty — except for one tiny accident. Which tells me that I'm a sucker at home and that he has me twisted around his little finger. I must become a hardass I guess.

While Sam is having all this fun, John and I — just the two of us — are heading to the neighborhood pool in between ABA sessions. It's such a treat to glide with him through the water, his face alight with joy. Just as he does with physical games like tickles and chase, he comes alive in the water. Despite my misgivings, he's doing really well after one week of ABA, and saying the most amazing, random things, like "Turtle. Scary!" and "Outside," as he drags my hand to the door.

We're off to a great summer, my boys and I.

Okay, Uncle!

I'm wavering. It's been barely a day since I wrote that pushing John to interact via ABA is worth it, no matter what, if it brings him into our world. But I'm listening to him scream right now and I'm not so sure, world. He sounds miserable.

Yes, he's operating on little sleep. Yes, he has a stuffy nose. Yes, I took away his Po doll before he was ready. No, it's not usually like this.

If there were a place I could run to and back — in fact, if running were something I could even do — I would, just to shake all of this uncertainty from my limbs and head and heart.

Trials and Triumphs

John is in day five of his summer ABA program and, well...Wow.

"J, J, J is jump, jump, jump" he says, as he skips around the house during his break between sessions. Here he is pressing his nose to mine: "a pig, a pig, a pig," he says and laughs. Nonsense for sure, but repeated with such mischief, such engagement, that I wonder whose child this is.

I wasn't sure if we should do this, I had doubts. His ABA therapists are not strangers to us — they came to our house for eight full months, after all, before he and Sam turned three. But at our summer kick-off meeting last week, John was defiant and angry. He was so eager for us to leave that he called me Mommy (that's the third time ever for those of you who count these things) as he flung his little body into my arms. I tried to interpret what he was feeling: was it boredom? exhaustion? sadness? I imagined he wanted to say, Please don't make me do this again mommy.

I watched as trials were practiced at the table: "Do this!" "Match!" "Come here!" and saw how he used his arm like a weapon to send everything flying to the floor in protest. I thought of how some regard ABA as robotic and cold. I thought about what a miserable mother I was to force my child to repeatedly drop a block into a cup — especially since he had mastered this task long ago.

"Isn't this a bit boring for him?" I asked. What I thought was, How is this helping him? How is this making him want to engage in our world? How can this make a difference?

I know it's about interspersing achievable goals into his program, to give him tasks that he can complete amid ones that he is learning. And then I heard myself admit to his ABA team that John has only become more interested in being left alone to stim, not less. It is something to hear aloud thoughts you've sidestepped just to get through the day. That's when I realized that dropping blocks into a cup is hardly the point at all.

Anything that pulls him back into our world, to look into my eyes and laugh, is the prize — whether he joins kicking and screaming or willingly into my arms. A Mommy here and there doesn't hurt either.

Five days in and already I see a change. A calm, a contentment even. Today, he actually said his therapist's name as she arrived. Huge things, folks.

Doodle Wednesday

Although he loves to write and draw, Sam does not like to use both hands at the same time. Definitely a lefty, if one hand gets slightly dirty (usually his right), he will clench it into a fist and refuse to use it. Weakness in his grip makes his crayon drawings fairly faint most of the time and often discourages him from continuing.

This is not a problem, however, with his Doodle Pro — the best invention aside from markers (which are also much easier to manipulate).

Lately, we've discovered TLC's Meteor and the Mighty Monster Trucks and he is a devoted viewer. This is Meteor, Junkboy, and some friends...


Here's Willy, a favorite I believe...


And this is a boy. ("Who is that?" I asked him. "That's Sam, Mommy," he said and then signed it to make sure I got it)

Just Want to Say...

I'm still here, still around, still reading at least. Life has knocked us down a few times lately, when it rains it hails and all that. So, I have a post, I really do, I just need to find the time. Right now you say? You know it's bad when your readers call to see what's happened to you. If it weren't past midnight... really folks, I have to go to bed.

Well, here are some highlights:
1. A storm came through here last week and uprooted two majestic trees in the back yard. And revealed how serious the patio sinkhole is (the one sinking towards the house and leaking water into the basement).

2. This is the last week of school which means we enter "Potty Training In A Week or Less" to prepare Sam, once and for all, for summer camp.

3. John starts a 20-hour-per-week home ABA program this weekend.

4. We had John's IEP meeting and survived it. They are keeping him at the same school which I've heard is rare for the second year of preschool. They prefer to move most kids on to the public school program where there is more opportunity for interaction with NT kids. They don't think he's ready for the interaction part, saying he's only "beginning to emerge." So, a little sad about this.

4. I baked 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies for our bus drivers and aides and then found the coolest teacher gifts on etsy.com — for all 17 of them. Now I just need to make tags.

5. We applied for and received some amazing funding for both Sam's camp and for John's ABA program. I encourage everyone to research what's available through their state or county's developmental disabilities administration. We practically stumbled on this info, it doesn't seem to be widely publicized.

And now here it is, practically tomorrow, but my first June post!