It has been a very busy coupla weeks around here, culminating in two nights away last week in our nation's capitol. I used to be very interested by such things. Thrilled by it; motivated by it. But now I just don't care as much. I guess that means it really is time to move on, professionally speaking. And so I shall.
These two nights/three days away were kind of a dry run for the upcoming ten days --- TEN DAYS -- when I will be in Houston for beginning my RDI certification program. The downside is that I missed the kids terribly. Terribly. I mean it was almost physical how much I missed them by the second morning. But the upside is that they were all fine. Nik was only a tiny bit relieved to see me when I got home but the house was cleaner than when I left it and none of the kids broke down sobbing with relief upon my return. I guess they can manage without me and that genuinely gives me some peace.
But this post is about a few other things. Firstly, I finally got around to hosting the video of Oliver and I shopping. This was taken six months after we started RDI (around the end of September, I think). I wish I could also show a similar video of before we started. But believe me when I say that prior to RDI, there was nothing like this sort of interaction going on. And I never would have been able to let Oliver walk freely through the parking lot or the store. He just wasn't tuned in to me enough so that I would feel confident of his safety.
Secondly, I'm looking for something to solve a little dilemma of ours and wonder if anyone out there is better at searching the web than I am. Oliver, you see, has a little bit of a zipper problem. He will NOT wear a coat or sweater or anything else that zips and so we have not been able to spend a lot of time outdoors for the past couple of winters, which is kind of a drag. Fortunately it isn't that cold this winter but I would still like to find some kind of pullover parka or something that would keep him warm. I did find this one at Land's End but don't want to spend $130. on a coat that might not fit next year. Any ideas would be greatly appreciated.
Next, a brief update on the toileting: last week Oliver began to use the potty independently! The way it happened was so natural and easy that I almost didn't even notice. So between that and the YES/NO thing, I feel like we are moving on to the next stage in life.
Also, we went to a birthday party on Saturday for a two year old. When I accepted the invitation I had no idea that so many people would be attending. The party was in a very small apartment and there had to be about 20 adults and at least as many kids. But Oliver handled the crowd better than I did! He even protested when we left.
Lastly, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been reading along and commenting on my blog the past month or so. I have been reading along on everyone else's blog but have not had any time to leave comments. And I don't know about you, but the feedback and encouragement that I get from my cyber-friends means the world to me. It helps me feel not so alone that others know my disappointments and share my joys.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
Gluten Free No More -- Or What's In A Cookie
So, about a week ago Oliver had a piece of pizza. I watched him. And I waited. And I watched some more, trying to be as objective as possible. Mostly what I saw was just a very, very happy boy. After that my heart wasn't really in it anymore.
Going GFCF wasn't really that difficult for us. I want to say that it was even easy. Give me some rice noodles, fish sauce, soy sauce, sugar, lime, basil, meat, chili peppers, maybe an egg or two and I can usually whip up something in about 20 minutes. And usually it would be gobbled up by just about everyone except Sami who doesn't eat these days just to be contrary.
We started the diet on August first and kept it up, without infraction, for almost 14 weeks. But if there was any difference in Oliver is was extremely subtle. Extremely subtle. Oh sure, there were times when I thought he seemed more this or less that, but there were an equal number of times when he was dysregulated and I had to wonder if it was him or me. Because really, I'm often very dysregulated. And we're a unit, my boy and I. So in the end, it was really hard for me to say that the diet made any difference at all. Except that without all the bagels I dropped five pounds.
But here is the interesting part (to me, anyway): I'm feeling a bit guilty about it. You see, the day after the piece of pizza I loaded the boys into the car and took them to the cookie store. Both boys know the downtown bakery as the cookie store and going there is one of our favorite outings. "Let's go on an adventure", I'll say. "To the cookie store!!" Then, we pile in the car and I drive a half mile to the city center. I park in the parking garage, we make our way to the bakery, go inside and order up four cookies for a dollar. I like the snickerdoodle and the boys both like the chocolate crinkle or chocolate chip. I give Oliver the money and he pays the lady, then we find our chairs in the back of the little seating area and have at it -- each of us seeing who can eat our cookie the quickest and lay claim to the fourth. Normally Oliver wins but usually I can convince him to give me half.
I love taking the kids to the cookie store. I love everything about it. I love how excited they are to be in a parking garage. I love how the bakery smells. I love how competent Oliver is at navigating his part of the adventure. I love how Sami gets covered with gooey chocolate. I love how the bakery ladies cluck over how handsome my boys are. And I love how someone looking at us from the outside would think we are just like any other family -- how for that half hour excursion I feel just like any other family.
But then a little annoying voice in the back of my head says things like: maybe you just didn't do it right. Maybe you didn't try long enough. Maybe it takes six months. A year. Maybe you should have also cut out soy. Or corn. .... Or maybe the diet was just preparing his body for what should have come next. Anti-fungals? Pro-biotics? Zinc? B-12? And what? You're giving up almost fourteen weeks worth of work for a cookie???
So I argue with myself and say: "Well, no, actually. It was four cookies. And two happy smiling boys. And the ladies who cluck over my kids. Even if one of them has autism and won't engage them in conversation but thanks them anyway with his hearty appreciation for their cookies. It was my strong desire to just live life with my boys. To stop weighing and measuring and examining every little moment.
It's an argument that will probably be on-going with me. Every time I hear about someone whose children made incredible progress on the diet or by following a DAN protocol I'll probably wonder if my instinct was correct, if I was just seeing what I wanted to see, or if I gave up too soon, didn't do enough.
My sister-in-law, who has Down Syndrome, turned 50 this year. I remember that when we were trying to find which direction to take with Oliver, my mother-in-law told me (well, Nik translated for me) that when her daughter was very young they didn't know what caused Down Syndrome and that some believed that blood transfusions and other similar kinds of interventions would help "cure" or lessen the symptoms. There were doctors out there who did these sorts of things. Nik's mom did all the research and eventually decided not to do any of it. She would have had to travel a great distance and it would have been costly. Besides, she said, her daughter was always a very happy child. She told me that she thinks that the understanding of autism today is where Down Syndrome was fifty years ago. So I often wonder how long it will be until we look back at today and know -- really know -- what it is and what to do to help lessen the challenges that face kids like Oliver. I hope it is in my lifetime. And I hope I don't regret all those cookies.
Going GFCF wasn't really that difficult for us. I want to say that it was even easy. Give me some rice noodles, fish sauce, soy sauce, sugar, lime, basil, meat, chili peppers, maybe an egg or two and I can usually whip up something in about 20 minutes. And usually it would be gobbled up by just about everyone except Sami who doesn't eat these days just to be contrary.
We started the diet on August first and kept it up, without infraction, for almost 14 weeks. But if there was any difference in Oliver is was extremely subtle. Extremely subtle. Oh sure, there were times when I thought he seemed more this or less that, but there were an equal number of times when he was dysregulated and I had to wonder if it was him or me. Because really, I'm often very dysregulated. And we're a unit, my boy and I. So in the end, it was really hard for me to say that the diet made any difference at all. Except that without all the bagels I dropped five pounds.
But here is the interesting part (to me, anyway): I'm feeling a bit guilty about it. You see, the day after the piece of pizza I loaded the boys into the car and took them to the cookie store. Both boys know the downtown bakery as the cookie store and going there is one of our favorite outings. "Let's go on an adventure", I'll say. "To the cookie store!!" Then, we pile in the car and I drive a half mile to the city center. I park in the parking garage, we make our way to the bakery, go inside and order up four cookies for a dollar. I like the snickerdoodle and the boys both like the chocolate crinkle or chocolate chip. I give Oliver the money and he pays the lady, then we find our chairs in the back of the little seating area and have at it -- each of us seeing who can eat our cookie the quickest and lay claim to the fourth. Normally Oliver wins but usually I can convince him to give me half.
I love taking the kids to the cookie store. I love everything about it. I love how excited they are to be in a parking garage. I love how the bakery smells. I love how competent Oliver is at navigating his part of the adventure. I love how Sami gets covered with gooey chocolate. I love how the bakery ladies cluck over how handsome my boys are. And I love how someone looking at us from the outside would think we are just like any other family -- how for that half hour excursion I feel just like any other family.
But then a little annoying voice in the back of my head says things like: maybe you just didn't do it right. Maybe you didn't try long enough. Maybe it takes six months. A year. Maybe you should have also cut out soy. Or corn. .... Or maybe the diet was just preparing his body for what should have come next. Anti-fungals? Pro-biotics? Zinc? B-12? And what? You're giving up almost fourteen weeks worth of work for a cookie???
So I argue with myself and say: "Well, no, actually. It was four cookies. And two happy smiling boys. And the ladies who cluck over my kids. Even if one of them has autism and won't engage them in conversation but thanks them anyway with his hearty appreciation for their cookies. It was my strong desire to just live life with my boys. To stop weighing and measuring and examining every little moment.
It's an argument that will probably be on-going with me. Every time I hear about someone whose children made incredible progress on the diet or by following a DAN protocol I'll probably wonder if my instinct was correct, if I was just seeing what I wanted to see, or if I gave up too soon, didn't do enough.
My sister-in-law, who has Down Syndrome, turned 50 this year. I remember that when we were trying to find which direction to take with Oliver, my mother-in-law told me (well, Nik translated for me) that when her daughter was very young they didn't know what caused Down Syndrome and that some believed that blood transfusions and other similar kinds of interventions would help "cure" or lessen the symptoms. There were doctors out there who did these sorts of things. Nik's mom did all the research and eventually decided not to do any of it. She would have had to travel a great distance and it would have been costly. Besides, she said, her daughter was always a very happy child. She told me that she thinks that the understanding of autism today is where Down Syndrome was fifty years ago. So I often wonder how long it will be until we look back at today and know -- really know -- what it is and what to do to help lessen the challenges that face kids like Oliver. I hope it is in my lifetime. And I hope I don't regret all those cookies.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Emphatically Speaking
This yes/no thing is not to be over-rated. It's great. I mean, it's changing our lives. This morning, while we were still lounging in bed I asked Oliver: "Do you want some water?" Because the heat is now on my throat is parched by morning so I imagined his would be too. But his answer was an emphatic "No!" Still, I wasn't convinced. Sometimes he gets them confused and says the opposite of what he really means. So I reached for the water bottle, held it out to him and asked again. He pushed my hand away and again said: "No!" Well, alrighty, that's communication, I thought. Then again, when we went to the kitchen for breakfast I decided to find out what he wanted to eat. Now, if your child is like my Sami, then you wouldn't get why this is such a big deal, because Sami tells me, and forcefully so, what he wants. I don't even have to offer Sam a choice, he knows what all the varieties are and that if I've got it he can have it. But not so with Oliver. Oliver has a hard time making choices. If I held out two different pieces of fruit and asked him to choose he would just sit there or walk away completely. So normally I have to guess. And if I've guessed wrong then whatever I prepare will go uneaten and I'll have to try again. But normally, he is happy with whatever I put in front of him -- which is good because Oliver is basically pretty easy to please. But it is also bad because I would love, love, love to know his opinion about things.
But this morning was pretty much different from any other morning. It went something like this:
Oliver? Do you want a banana?
No.
Do you want a muffin?
No.
Do you want cereal?
No.
Do you want oatmeal?
Yes.
Oatmeal? You want oatmeal?
Yes!
And this last yes wasn't just a yes, but one with an exclamation point beside it. It was one with emphatic head shaking. Head shaking!
Another really fun thing about this yes/no trick of ours is that it is opening things up for debate that weren't debateable before. For example, this evening the kids were both exhausted from swimming at the end of the day but I let them watch the Wiggles anyway because Sami is just so cute with his dancing and guitar playing. But then, before the video was over I said: OK, five more minutes and it is time for bed! And Oliver just looked at me and said "No!" with more emphatic head shaking. So what could I do? We watched all the way through to the end of the credits.
Yes and No are such little bitty words, really. But man, I can't help but feel like a rather large and heavy door has been opened. I've got my foot in there and I'm already peering inside. I don't know if this will lead to more language, more communication. But at the moment I am emphatically, euphorically optimistic.
But this morning was pretty much different from any other morning. It went something like this:
Oliver? Do you want a banana?
No.
Do you want a muffin?
No.
Do you want cereal?
No.
Do you want oatmeal?
Yes.
Oatmeal? You want oatmeal?
Yes!
And this last yes wasn't just a yes, but one with an exclamation point beside it. It was one with emphatic head shaking. Head shaking!
Another really fun thing about this yes/no trick of ours is that it is opening things up for debate that weren't debateable before. For example, this evening the kids were both exhausted from swimming at the end of the day but I let them watch the Wiggles anyway because Sami is just so cute with his dancing and guitar playing. But then, before the video was over I said: OK, five more minutes and it is time for bed! And Oliver just looked at me and said "No!" with more emphatic head shaking. So what could I do? We watched all the way through to the end of the credits.
Yes and No are such little bitty words, really. But man, I can't help but feel like a rather large and heavy door has been opened. I've got my foot in there and I'm already peering inside. I don't know if this will lead to more language, more communication. But at the moment I am emphatically, euphorically optimistic.
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