Dealing with Delays – Advocating for your child

This morning, perhaps even while you are reading this, I’ll be speaking to the Child Development class at the high school where my brother teaches on the subject of identifying developmental delays in your child and working with your delayed child at home.  That’s right, I’m gonna go pretend I actually know something about this when really I just made it up as I went along.  I have a sneaking suspicion that the high schoolers will not know the difference {crosses fingers}. Ha.  I am also going to try to look semi-professional (no skirt, I am not wearing panty hose in January for ANYONE) and to not say any offensive words such as “crap” or “sucks” or worse. Eeeek.

But anyhoo.  While preparing for my talk, I got to thinking about what was the most difficult part of the whole “delays thing” for me – it was getting others to see Sophie for who she was, how she was, and what she could and couldn’t do.  Part of Sophie’s deal was that she was super-shy and would not perform for strangers in an evaluation.  Soooooo I had to convince said evaluators of what she was really like and keep her from being mis-labeled. (Why is it so important to put a label on everything – can a child not be shy anymore?  Must everything be a syndrome?)  Additionally, having a “label” was not important to me.  Sophie had some delays and I wanted to treat those delays – the symptoms – I didn’t need to know the “cause” (if there was one) as long as they symptoms were responding well to therapy.  On the other hand, of course, if it is required that your child be “labeled” so that he or she may qualify for the services and therapies that they need, well, that’s a necessary evil at one point.  For instance, for Sophie to get into the preschool she needed to be in, she had to be classified as developmentally delayed, and as a “child with a disability” (the delays being the disability).  This was totally fine with me if it got her into a classroom where she could get speech and OT and have an Intervention Specialist for a teacher.  But there were some diagnoses I knew Sophie simply did not have, and I wasn’t going to let someone tell the world that she did.  I knew her delays were temporary and she would overcome them with the right therapies and hard work at home.

After all we went through, it is my unchangeable and yet probably unrealistic opinion that a child should only be evaluated over multiple sessions in an environment in which he or she is comfortable. I think in a large percentage of cases, asking most of these delayed little girls and boys to perform for multiple strangers at a new-to-them location in a short period of time is just asking for really inaccurate evaluation results.

The bottom line is, don’t let anyone try to tell you something is true about your child that you know is not true. You may not have an expert degree in child psychology but YOU are the expert on your child.

Sure, in all things you should check yourself for the old denial.  No one wants to recognize that their perfect child is not “typically developing”.  It’s not fun, trust me.  So you need to have people in your life who know your child and have observed them multiple times over a long period of time in an environment in which they are comfortable that you can ask, “Please be honest with me. What do you think?  Am I incapable of seeing what my child needs?”  This should be a person that YOU choose to trust with this question. And you need to be prepared to trust their answer.

Be your child’s advocate.  That means champion their strengths and don’t deny their weaknesses.  It means being willing to say, “No, you’re wrong,” to someone with a lot more academic degrees and “experience” than you have.   Or it means being willing to say, “Ok, what’s next?” after hearing shattering news from that same person that you know in your heart is true.  It means putting aside your pride and putting on your big girl panties (and distance running shoes) to dash headlong onto the path that you must take to get your child every bit of help that he or she needs to be the absolute best that he or she is capable of being.

Even as you are trucking along down therapy road, never stop advocating.  If you ever feel like a therapist, teacher, or clinic isn’t the right fit for your child, don’t be afraid to make changes.  Your kiddo is depending on you to steer this ship, and in the long run (and it may be a long run), it will be your privilege to do so.

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Dental Drama

joshuasmile

See that cute little perfect smile?

Yeah, there’s a cavity back there. (WHICH I am totally mortified about, but that’s beside the point.)

So, my sweet, sensitive boy – you know, the one who’s afraid of his own shadow? – is gonna have a DRILL up in there on Wednesday!

I am fairly sure I am going to have to hold him down for this to happen.

I myself have never had a cavity {cue twinkle as I grin} so I really don’t know how to prepare him. I want to tell him what’s going to happen, without scaring the bajeebers out of him.  It’s bad enough how he fusses about the noise his battery-powered toothbrush makes (related: is there like a boot camp for 2nd graders where you can send them to toughen up?), I don’t think he’s going to *sit stoically still*  for a drill.

Anyone been through this lately?  I sure could use a play-by-play of what to expect so I can explain it to him in terms he can bear!  Insert advice below!  (Pleeeease help a mother out!)

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An open letter to Emily about this whole dog business

photo by number657 on flickr

Dear Cousin,

I love you. Just about as much as I love anyone on this earth.  And I have in my past, loved a pet.  More than one.  I mean I used to let those cats SLEEP WITH ME every night, I looooved them, they were my BABIES, and you know what? I’M GLAD THEY’RE GONE.   Going pet-free is the best decision we ever made for our family.

And that is the reason I am going to tell you that you should under no circumstances, get a DOG.  I know your husband thinks he wants one, I know your daughter thinks she wants one, I know all our readers think your kids are going to turn out to be emotionally stunted irresponsible citizens who make a living stealing other people’s identities if they don’t get a one, but I am here to tell you that they are WRONG.  Why? Because YOU don’t want one, and they ultimately want what YOU want, whether they know it or not.  This dog will make you unhappy, and when mama’s not happy…she gets TMJ, gets hopped up on muscle relaxers because she can’t deal with letting the dog out in the middle of the night one more time, refuses to leave the bedroom, gets fired from her job, and starts talking to her new hair dryer.

But you know what? I don’t need to give you any more reasons about how dog hair is gross (and your cleaning lady is going to start charging you more), how you are going to have to pick up POOP (really, both your kids can take care of their own poop, shouldn’t you not rock the poop boat?), how you are going to have to make Kate get a JOB to pay for the tags, license, shots, etcetera that this pooch is going to require.  And what if he gets hurt, or sick? Oh, you can just buy health insurance for YOUR DOG. I’m sure that’s cheap.  And probably really good coverage.  I am sure you will never have to pay out of pocket thousands of dollars so your dog won’t die so your kids won’t be emotionally scarred.

OH, and YOU HAVE TO PAY MONEY FOR YOUR DOG TO GET A HAIRSTYLE AND A MANICURE. Dubya tee eff, cousin. Like you even have time to get your OWN hair and nails done but your DOG will have to have regularly scheduled appointments?

I just died a little just thinking about it.

But anyhoo. Like I was saying. I don’t need to tell you those things.  Because I am going to tell you, in your own words, why you should not get a dog.  So Emily, listen up, because you have something to say to yourself.

REASONS I SHOULD NOT GET A DOG

by Emily Berry

1) I rarely plan ahead for lunch, which means I either grab something quick (and expensive and not so healthy), or I scavenge something to eat out of my desk drawer, and then find myself ravenous when I get home.  But I’m sure remembering to buy giant $60 bags of dog food for our family pet will be no problem.

2) One of the many things I struggle with is how big of a deal to make out of things – and by “things,” I mean failures on my part. Once I get started thinking about one thing, a giant list of other things I need to do or fix or clean or whatever comes to the forefront of my mind… and I can’t let them go. But I think adding a few dog-care-related things to the list is a great idea.

3) I need to hook up the super awesome printer I bought, I don’t know, probably six months ago. It’s been sitting in a corner since then. I shudder to think of this dog’s fate when your 7-year-old tires of caring for it.

4) I need to keep my car cleaner. So I’m getting a dog.

5) I’m tired of staying up too late. I’m tired of not being able to get out of bed on time. I’m tired of getting myself and two kids out the door every morning. I’m tired of my 40 minute commute. I’m tired of evenings being rushed. I’m tired of being late for everything. I’m tired of having so many balls in the air. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not doing a good job at anything.  Like keeping a dog alive.

6) Sam, at the ripe old age of three and a half, has developed a new interest. Potty humor. I think dog poop all over the yard is really going to help him get over it.

7) I mean, imagine if your husband had memories of seeing his mom get a pap smear. (ok, that one doesn’t really apply, it just cracks me up!)

8 ) Then there’s everything that has to be done in evenings during the school year… homework, paper shuffling, lunch packing, bath time, and, you know, dinner. And taking the dog out for a crap. And scooping the dog’s crap up.

9)  Jenny and I have actually both been struggling with this ungratefulness in our oldest children, and we’ve talked about it a lot.  However, we have no solutions. But maybe I’ll try making Kate scoop up dog crap and see if that helps.

10) And finally…I think I am getting grumpy in my old age or something, because this time around any benefit I might eventually get from this scenario  is vastly outweighed by the fact that I am extremely uncomfortable.

Don’t get a dog, cousin. Don’t. Get. A. Dog.

Love,

me

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