Love lasts, but life is short - so hug me while you can.
The Kinglet had his psych evaluation at the children's hospital yesterday. They had a last minute cancellation, which allowed us to move up our appointment from November, and have him seen and diagnosed before his IEP evaluation gets under way at school. So someone up there was looking out for him.
It started with a lengthy parent interview, then moved on to some cognitive testing and miscellany while I was supposed to fill out about a million and a half parent questionnaires in the waiting area. I went to the car to get my laptop and picked up a latte in the lobby - when I came back he was already screaming at the doctor and her student. If I didn't know better, I would have thought they were abusing him in there.
They decided to skip the intelligence testing, to save everyone the torture - we have that data anyway from the tests his therapist administered two years ago, plus it's obvious to everyone that he's quite bright and high-functioning.
They conducted the rest of the testing with me in the room, so I got to see and hear how he responded. I thought he was being more obstinate than usual, but I suppose all of this is good, as it means they got to see the full range of How He Is.
We won't get the results of the evaluation for another three weeks. I can't really speculate on what they'll tell us, because who knows with these things, but I wouldn't be surprised if they feel he's on the spectrum. I was kind of floored by how out-of-touch he seemed with some of the social-awareness kind of questions. I mean, as parents, you model things, you talk about things, but some things you don't even think to define because it's just... absorbed? Does that make sense? So to find out your child hasn't really absorbed them after all... well, it's an experience.
Mostly, I was struck by how insistent he is that school is an awful place where teachers don't like him and all the kids (except his girlfriend) make fun of him. You'd think nothing good ever happened to him there - he has a very bleak view of that part of his life. It shouldn't be this way at seven years old. Poor kid.
I'm just hoping to Godz that this evaluation helps, that the IEP goes through, and that we can use these things to insulate him - the school needs to stop treating him as a discipline case and start addressing the deficiencies he obviously has. I keep telling him, "this year is going to be different". We're going to work on things - what it means to be a good friend, what he can do to get along better with people and stop making himself a target. It's going to be better. It has to be.
But on the bright side... in spite of all his negative perceptions, the Kinglet was adamant (through the true or false questions) that he is not an anxious or lonely kid. That particularly made me feel good - even more than when he answered the fill-in-the-blank statement "My mother..." with "...is the best mudder in the world". I remember thinking, well, if I can do nothing else for him, at least he doesn't have to feel alone.
We had a lovely talk this morning - sometimes he's just so sweet and open. He said things like "No matter what, Mom, I always love you. If I say things that are mean, it's just because my anger monster is in the way." And, as I always tell him, "I'll always be in your heart."
Later he asked if he could give me some love, so we hugged, and he said, "I love to hug you. It makes me feel like I'm younger, like I'm still a baby." I told him that's why I love to hug him, too - he will always be my baby, no matter how old he gets.
"I hope I always get to hug you," I said.
"I'll always let you hug me," he assured me. "At least until you die."
"Exactly. When I'm dead I won't have a body anymore, so I want to hug you as much as I can while I still have one." To which he nodded, as if this is perfectly obvious.
And that's pretty much the whole point of life, I think. If my son understands that much, I know I'm doing something right.
The rest will come.
It started with a lengthy parent interview, then moved on to some cognitive testing and miscellany while I was supposed to fill out about a million and a half parent questionnaires in the waiting area. I went to the car to get my laptop and picked up a latte in the lobby - when I came back he was already screaming at the doctor and her student. If I didn't know better, I would have thought they were abusing him in there.
They decided to skip the intelligence testing, to save everyone the torture - we have that data anyway from the tests his therapist administered two years ago, plus it's obvious to everyone that he's quite bright and high-functioning.
They conducted the rest of the testing with me in the room, so I got to see and hear how he responded. I thought he was being more obstinate than usual, but I suppose all of this is good, as it means they got to see the full range of How He Is.
We won't get the results of the evaluation for another three weeks. I can't really speculate on what they'll tell us, because who knows with these things, but I wouldn't be surprised if they feel he's on the spectrum. I was kind of floored by how out-of-touch he seemed with some of the social-awareness kind of questions. I mean, as parents, you model things, you talk about things, but some things you don't even think to define because it's just... absorbed? Does that make sense? So to find out your child hasn't really absorbed them after all... well, it's an experience.
Mostly, I was struck by how insistent he is that school is an awful place where teachers don't like him and all the kids (except his girlfriend) make fun of him. You'd think nothing good ever happened to him there - he has a very bleak view of that part of his life. It shouldn't be this way at seven years old. Poor kid.
I'm just hoping to Godz that this evaluation helps, that the IEP goes through, and that we can use these things to insulate him - the school needs to stop treating him as a discipline case and start addressing the deficiencies he obviously has. I keep telling him, "this year is going to be different". We're going to work on things - what it means to be a good friend, what he can do to get along better with people and stop making himself a target. It's going to be better. It has to be.
But on the bright side... in spite of all his negative perceptions, the Kinglet was adamant (through the true or false questions) that he is not an anxious or lonely kid. That particularly made me feel good - even more than when he answered the fill-in-the-blank statement "My mother..." with "...is the best mudder in the world". I remember thinking, well, if I can do nothing else for him, at least he doesn't have to feel alone.
We had a lovely talk this morning - sometimes he's just so sweet and open. He said things like "No matter what, Mom, I always love you. If I say things that are mean, it's just because my anger monster is in the way." And, as I always tell him, "I'll always be in your heart."
Later he asked if he could give me some love, so we hugged, and he said, "I love to hug you. It makes me feel like I'm younger, like I'm still a baby." I told him that's why I love to hug him, too - he will always be my baby, no matter how old he gets.
"I hope I always get to hug you," I said.
"I'll always let you hug me," he assured me. "At least until you die."
"Exactly. When I'm dead I won't have a body anymore, so I want to hug you as much as I can while I still have one." To which he nodded, as if this is perfectly obvious.
And that's pretty much the whole point of life, I think. If my son understands that much, I know I'm doing something right.
The rest will come.