I started this post last August (7 months ago) which got lost in the sauce of other unfinished rants posts. But the fresh layer of pollen I spy on EVERYTHING outside and a few facebook status updates reminded me that it’s allergy season and perhaps this information could lend a helping foot… (cue: genuine laughter. no eye rolling, please.)
All my life I have had allergies. Every single person in my immediate and childhood family suffers from allergies. I have avoided shots like the plague not needed to be subjected to shots, but I have always stocked my medicine cabinet with a good variety of antihistamines: oral, topical, eye-drops, non-drowsy, PM, extended release, fast-acting, OTC, and prescription. I noticed that about 6 or 7 years ago my allergy symptoms went way down – to the point that I was only taking medicine when necessary to calm a flare up or when I knew I was going to a house with a cat. My allergies had become so manageable that I was able to prevent an attack the moment I felt a tickle just by leaving the premises. There were a couple of explanations I came up with for this: a safer non-chemical cleaning product overhaul in our household in 2004 and saying goodbye to my 4th and final pet ferret in 2002 were most likely the 2 largest influences. (In hindsight, I probably could add to that the end of my commute when The Elder was born in 2003, which was primarily public transportation and all the fresh air that goes along with that.)
I have a stuffy nose and my face is about to fall off…what shall I do?
This is the first time I attempted to battle allergies with absolutely no medications (update: March 20th was my 1 year medication-free anniversary!) and frankly I was not optimistic. To make sure I wasn’t self-cross-pollinating my allergies, I was particularly OCD about washing my hands and avoiding rubbing my eyes and nose. And even after a salt wash, I still could.not.breathe. Misery.
Enter: Reflexology
reflexology
a system of massaging specific areas of the foot or sometimes the hand in order to promote healing, relieve stress, etc., in other parts of the body.
Med. the study of reflex movements and processes.
There are four accupressure points that I have memorized since I was young to help me in times when I need relief when I don’t have any medicinal remedies handy, or as my case is now avoiding medications. These are for foot or leg cramps (lip), headaches (thumbpit - yeah I just made that word up), nausea or motion sickness (wrist), and sinus pressure (toes). It is the latter that saved the day.
According to this chart, I got a little Brain action too!!
For what it’s worth, the fingertips work too, but I get faster results on my toes and even faster results when The Hub does my toes. This trick is handy when kids are stuffy too. I play “This little piggy went to market” with them. Sometimes I pinch their toes while they are asleep. You can actually hear their breathing improve!
The past was playing in my head reruns of my last encounter and I was suffocating at the thought of stepping foot back there. Could it have really been 2 years ago? On this day, it felt like yesterday.
The Elder had just randomly announced in the car that the “3rd Grade Founder’s Program was not this Tuesday but the next Tuesday after that and I.AM.NOT.PERFORMING.”
Flashback:
“This is optional but performance is required in the 3rd grade for his final grades.” I remember feeling immediate relief 2 years ago upon hearing this, and then a distant dread that I will eventually have to face this and prep him for it. So what did I do that fateful day in the 1st grade? I made his attendance required but his performance optional. It was a good and responsible plan, so I thought. I had arranged for assigned seats up front where he could see the performance but have a quick and easy escape without mowing down rows of people. We even had special “Reserved For” signs that I thought would distract him to see his name in print make him feel special. Waiting in the hallway that led to the cafeteria just outside the gym was pretty painless because he saw some of his classmates, and I saw some parents for socializing opportunities. Things were going well so far…
I am blissfully unaware at how this task had eluded me for 2 years. Normally I’d drop subtle hints to him along the way to prepare him for expectations. I couldn’t be too dramatic so as not to scare him off, especially since I personally love to perform – from birth I think. (I’m pretty sure I came out of the womb saying, “Ta da!”) But I had completely procrastinated until the last 10 days. Who AM I anymore? Was there a 2nd grade performance that we skipped? I couldn’t remember. Wasn’t there an announcement about this year’s performance? I blocked it out, I guess. I should check my spam box. Maybe it’s not my avoiding pain and humiliation but my avoiding requiring him to put value into something in which he does not value as much as I do – the performing arts. That sounds more noble and all, but truth is I am tired. I am anxious. I am self-conscious. I am desperate to go to a performance to be entertained. I mean, who wants to go to a gym that holds 515 (according to The Elder’s statistics in his head) noisy, hot bodies that I have to navigate through to chase my kid or protect them from flying shoes. No one. We go to shows to be entertained not to be in battle. Two very different kinds of drama here. One I enjoy, the other not so much.
Flashback:
What I personally was not prepared for, thus did not prepare The Elder, was the massive crowd of people that would be there 30 minutes early. We usually try to arrive places before any crowd does for transitional purposes, but I forgot that the number of 1st grade students here was probably equivalent to the total number of students that attended my entire high school at the time I graduated. (Flashbackback: I can recall when I was in the 2nd grade performing in the school play of The Wizard of Oz, we were in the elementary school cafeteria, T-I-N-Y.) I definitely didn’t expect the gym to be full, much less THAT large and full.
“But isn’t this performance for a grade this year?” He’s finally making good grades this year since his behavior has gotten under control (love love love his paraprofessionals) so this actually has an impact for the first time.
“I.WILL.NOT.SING.”
“You don’t have to sing. Think you can just stand there?” Did I seriously forget in 2 short years just how many people can pack into that gym. Of course the entire mass had been sitting away from us, but I was keenly aware of them. And if they affected me, they’d affect him ten times as much. I prepared to give in to his demands…
“Fine. But I’m standing behind the tallest person.”
Shock. That was way more than I expected. WAY more. I immediately petitioned for some help from his teachers on how to keep him calm and boost his confidence. I even suggested the guidance counselor. Supportive responses came back to me with various options, from choosing which tall kid’s back he could stare at to production stagehand jobs he could handle. We finally settled on passing out programs (with me).
Flashback:
I had just taken a program from the door greeter and entered the gym. From behind me, a black-brown shoe was launched into the back of the elderly person diagonally in front of me. I was mortified as I recognized the shoe. Another one landed in an open yellow area on the gym floor as if to caution me, and then I saw him go to pick it up to launch it again. I grabbed him and clumsily pushed through the crowd – former friends, I’m sure – out of the gym and retreated to the far corner of the cafeteria where The Elder pushed me off of him to go cohabitate with the dust bunnies and God-knows-what between the corner and the cabinets. It had happened so fast. I had no idea where my husband (and 4 year old) were. In reserved seats, I assumed. Did he have his ringer on? Did he know what happened? How many people were hit before I witnessed the grandpa’s discomfort? Did I apologize? How many people are judging him? Judging me? Oh my, where are his shoes?
I was a time-bomb ticking with anticipation.
The Elder’s behavior was stable at school, but was erratic at home and church for those 10 days.
I tried not to connect the two, but if the shoe fits…. (pun intended)
The stress culminated into a bloody mess on the day before showtime. I got a call at 8:30am from the school. The Elder was suffering from nosebleeds that they could not stop – a sure sign of stress. I picked him up from school, followed our normal “sick” protocol of no TV, computer, or video games and only Chicken Soup – just to reinforce that early dismissal is not a free ride. He took a nap, which I’m sure he sorely needed with the daylight savings time change, and then he beat the tar out of me in Monopoly. Probably just the respite he needed.
Flashback:
The performance sounded wonderful from the corner of the now-empty cafeteria. The principal walked through and gave us a hearty wave. Bless her. The Elder was walking around and around and around and around the table. Sometimes he stopped when he recognized a song. And then continued his solo performance around the table. It could have been worse…right?
We arrived 50 minutes early this time. In plenty of time for us to get prime parking him to pick out a prime seat (we didn’t have reserved seats this time) and to touch every square inch of the risers. He was running all over the set very comfortably, getting familiar with the various views from the risers, memorizing where cables haphazardly lined the floors so he didn’t fall on his face, picking out all his favorite vendors from the banners on the wall (Menchie’s, for one). I ran into his homeroom teacher and we headed off to our “assignment.”
“It’s time for you to help me with the programs!” I didn’t have to chase him too too much. I emphatically said that I was not going to chase him around this gym any more, and he hid behind some decorations.
It didn’t happen. He didn’t perform behind the tallest person. He didn’t pass out programs. He did at least eventually go get a program for himself from a door greeter. I hope that counts toward his grade.
He didn’t remove his shoes, and most importantly, he didn’t hurt anyone. Well, my legs were sore from being a human “squeeze machine.” (He sat on the floor between my legs and I secured him Temple-Grandin-squeeze-machine style.)
The best part of all? His teacher assured me that his participation wasn’t a big deal, she just wanted the family to enjoy the show. And we did. (The Elder through the lenses of the camera – great calming trick, btw) That very same teacher walked away that night with some sort of “Greatest Teacher on Planet Earth” award. Very well deserved.
If you never read any more of this blog post of mine, you MUST, without fail, follow this link and read Glennon’s blog post.
I’m glad I took the kairos time (that will make more sense if you’ve read her post) to read this raw and beautifully written article. I think all parents should read it, but especially the parents of special needs children. Its message, I believe, goes further to affirm us as we face the very different challenges on a daily basis.
I get caught up in the guilt of not “enjoying every moment of their childhood before it’s too late.” I can’t honestly say I loooove parenting. It’s not my gift. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I do loooove being a parent, or as Glennon says “having parented.” I have an influence on them, not just as their parent, but the one and only role of being their mother. I’m way far from perfect, but at the end of the day, I’m learning to pat myself on the back for getting though another day – for finding the one (it’s usually more than one but I like to set myself up for success) instance of hope, glimmer of beauty, evidence that something I tried to pass on actually did, proof that some therapy I paid for was worth its investment.
You know, when I really think about it though, I’m actually very lucky because statistically, I feel like I have more opportunities to seize moments of hope and beauty. On those days that I’m up to my eyeballs in tantrums, strewn legos, and broken computer peripherals and I look at the clock and it’s only 8:30 in the morning, I need that moment when I hear the distant, unprompted toilet flush. I don’t know if that makes sense or not. Maybe a story would help illustrate.
Today, we took The Skipper Dog to the vet. It was quite an intense appointment (about a different kind of seizing ), so both me and The Hub went and of course had to bring the kids. We left them in the lobby with the directions that they were in charge of only themselves, to make sure they made themselves make good choices. About after 15 minutes of being back with the vet, I heard The Elder screaming in the lobby. I went out there and he was sitting criss cross applesauce on the bench screaming:
E: “Y is touching me!”
M: (to The Younger) “Don’t touch him.”
Y: “But I want to sit here.”
M: (to The Elder) “Choose a different place to sit”
E: “But that place has a scary thing, and that place is too close to the vent, and that place is touching that plant, and that place is near the magazines.”
The Younger couldn’t really top that so (with maternal encouragement) he moved to a chair on the other side of the lobby. I was able to return to the patient room without missing too much of the vet’s testing-results spiel.
Let’s list the obvious triumphs. (triumphs that I must say make me one proud mama!)
I was comfortable leaving them both in the lobby (not without my super sonic ears open to eavesdrop on their every word)
The appointment was nearly an hour long and I only had to intervene once.
There was 15 minutes before the onset of the intervention.
The intervention was pretty painless and straightforward.
Now the not-so-obvious triumphs.
The Elder was sitting on the bench – and criss cross applesauce to boot. (This would be opposed to wallowing in the floor or running outside in the parking lot)
He verbally expressed his case of why he should be allowed to remain where he was seated. (as opposed to physically expressing his case with his fist or teeth or saliva)
The Younger complied on first request (not without whining, but without any oppositional defiance)
Finally the triumphs that could easily slip away if I wasn’t intentionally seizing them.
The Elder had all of his clothes on, including his shoes.
Both kids were wearing their glasses at all times.
Therefore in a single event, I’m able to seize greater than 100% more triumphant moments! Sometimes all I can walk away with is the fact that “Both kids were wearing their glasses at all times,” and sometimes I can’t even claim that moment and must settle for “We found their glasses before we left, flung atop the the silk tree in the lobby, and eventually repaired them, at no additional cost.” Maybe I’m crazy, but that makes me feel lucky!
), so both me and The Hub went and of course had to bring the kids. We left them in the lobby with the directions that they were in charge of only themselves, to make sure they made themselves make good choices. About after 15 minutes of being back with the vet, I heard The Elder screaming in the lobby. I went out there and he was sitting criss cross applesauce on the bench screaming:
