His Struggles are My Struggles
At first, I thought he was just a crazy kid. He was always jumping and climbing. He hated wearing clothes. Getting him in the tub was next to impossible. Brushing his hair... ha! I was lucky that if I could get a comb through it without screaming and tears. When he was three, three and a half, he was diagnosed with Sensory Perception Disorder. For those unfamiliar with the term (as I was when the pediatric rehab therapist told me it), SPD is a disorder often found in conjunction with autism, though it's not exclusive to it. Someone with SPD's senses don't work the same way the rest of ours do - sometimes they are more sensitive textures, sometimes they have to fight to feel anything. Even soft lights and sounds could bother someone with SPD, while another SPD person might not be bothered by noises that could hurt anyone without the disorder.
Peter is what is known as a sensory seeker. He would run full tilt into a wall because he wasn't aware of the area around his body. He hated the feeling of clothing on his body, so he would be naked as often as he could (to the point of trying to take his clothes off in the grocery store). Nothing ever tasted right to him, to the point that all he would eat were chicken nuggets, fries, and PBJs. For him, the world is a very different place than it is for me, his dad, or his brother.
Kindergarten was hard. He spent much of the year rolling around on the floor with his shoes off, his arms tucked into his shirt. He would wear shorts and a heavy winter jacket in August. For all that the teachers did what they could to help him - including keeping a basket of sensory toys that he could use at any time he needed - he still had a very difficult time because he couldn't accept responsibility for his actions. His diagnosis of ADHD helped some, letting him concentrate so he didn't feel the need to be so active all of the time. But the sensory problems weren't anything that was going to go away. So we continue to find ways to deal with them.
He's in second grade now. And he's come a long way. I no longer need to worry that he's going to get naked in public, though getting rid of his clothes is always the first thing he does when he comes in the door. He can sit at his desk and work without the need to get up and move around. Thanks to karate, he's become more aware of where his body is in space so he's not needing to run into walls to keep track of his boundries. He is more willing to try eating new things, regularly eating pepperoni pizza along with his PBJs. He'll actually enjoy baths every once in awhile.
But for all his stride, we still have struggles. If it were up to him, he'd never ever wear underwear. In fact, he goes out of his way to prove to me that he's put them on whenever he does wear them. Haircuts are still traumatic, and the only way I was able to get him to let me cut it the last time was by promising him I'd have mine cut as well. His head is so tender that he screams whenever a comb would go through a knot. But I'm ok with the struggles. Because for all that, sometimes I wish he were more compliant, that he'd listen and do what I ask more regularly, he's my son and I wouldn't want to change who he is at his core. The struggles that he faces, the struggles I face with him, are what make me know that we're family. And it's more proof than anything else that this boy is mine.
Peter is what is known as a sensory seeker. He would run full tilt into a wall because he wasn't aware of the area around his body. He hated the feeling of clothing on his body, so he would be naked as often as he could (to the point of trying to take his clothes off in the grocery store). Nothing ever tasted right to him, to the point that all he would eat were chicken nuggets, fries, and PBJs. For him, the world is a very different place than it is for me, his dad, or his brother.
Kindergarten was hard. He spent much of the year rolling around on the floor with his shoes off, his arms tucked into his shirt. He would wear shorts and a heavy winter jacket in August. For all that the teachers did what they could to help him - including keeping a basket of sensory toys that he could use at any time he needed - he still had a very difficult time because he couldn't accept responsibility for his actions. His diagnosis of ADHD helped some, letting him concentrate so he didn't feel the need to be so active all of the time. But the sensory problems weren't anything that was going to go away. So we continue to find ways to deal with them.
He's in second grade now. And he's come a long way. I no longer need to worry that he's going to get naked in public, though getting rid of his clothes is always the first thing he does when he comes in the door. He can sit at his desk and work without the need to get up and move around. Thanks to karate, he's become more aware of where his body is in space so he's not needing to run into walls to keep track of his boundries. He is more willing to try eating new things, regularly eating pepperoni pizza along with his PBJs. He'll actually enjoy baths every once in awhile.
But for all his stride, we still have struggles. If it were up to him, he'd never ever wear underwear. In fact, he goes out of his way to prove to me that he's put them on whenever he does wear them. Haircuts are still traumatic, and the only way I was able to get him to let me cut it the last time was by promising him I'd have mine cut as well. His head is so tender that he screams whenever a comb would go through a knot. But I'm ok with the struggles. Because for all that, sometimes I wish he were more compliant, that he'd listen and do what I ask more regularly, he's my son and I wouldn't want to change who he is at his core. The struggles that he faces, the struggles I face with him, are what make me know that we're family. And it's more proof than anything else that this boy is mine.