The last few months have been a fairly decent game of dodgeball. J and I have been thrown so many different things and yet it seemed that he was conquering so many things. Each ball that was thrown at us was caught. Baby’s game. He’s been going to therapy for about 5 weeks now and has improved so much that I think I started feeling a little cocky. Sure, there were a few setbacks, but for the most part, he was kicking butt and taking names. This whole SPD thing had nothin’ on MY little guy.
Naturally, it’s times like those (y’know, those times when you think you’ve conquered something in a freakishly short amount of time earning you a place in some kind of medical journal…yeah, those times) when you somewhat deserve to take a giant rubber ball right in the gut. I was hit pretty hard today and the mask was taken off. I looked at my teammate and realized he’s not catching all the balls but is desperately dodging them, just to stay in the game.
Transitions, of course, are difficult for J so I do my best to make them as less “transition-y” as possible. Unfortunately, when he spends every other weekend at his dad’s, that’s a transition you can’t do much about. His school and I both expect a rough adjustment period come Monday morning. Usually, by Tuesday, he’s adjusted and life goes on. Usually. Last night, J told me he hated me. Although this was a first, I tried not to take it too personally since his hatred was seemingly stemming from the fact that I was insisting it was time for bed. (I’m assuming when he gets older, accepting that he “hates” me for not letting him do something stupid as a teenager will feel similar.) I was upset by the fact that he seemed so angry, however. We’ve had many discussions about the word “hate” and it is something I’ve done my best to discourage using.
Today, I found myself in a daze while sitting in the director’s office at his preschool. She was telling me about this “Wild Thing” (seriously, all I could do was picture J in Max’s wolf costume) that was biting his friends, actually hit his best friend, scratched her, and kicked his teacher. As she continued, I didn’t want to believe that she was talking about my well-adapting son. I didn’t want to believe it, but in the time I was sitting there, could hear him randomly shouting in the next room. As we were leaving, he ran up to his friend, stood 2 inches from her face and yelled “GOODBYEEEEE!” as loud as he could. Yup, the wolf costume was definitely on. Dealing with anger is a new thing for J. About a year and a half ago, he expressed some anger, but that quickly subsided where it wasn’t a concern. Now, it’s certainly a concern and one I’m not sure how to deal with. His frustrations are easily set off and I took a chance on having him doing a cutting and coloring activity tonight. After that and some brush therapy (and a little heavy “lifting” to drag his toys into his room), things settled down amazingly well. He was able to calmly follow directions and went to bed without a hitch. Mission accomplished, right?
Nope. I then spent the next 30 minutes blankly staring at a textbook, not being able to concentrate on anything else other than J’s anger. I realized I don’t know as much as I thought I did about any of this and there is nothing more frustrating than seeing your son dodging frantically, and you’re unable to help. I feel helpless and to have that feeling concerning the ONE person you feel you should be able to help is right up there in the “worst feelings in the world” department. I’m thankful that something brought me back to reality, but wish I could have all the answers so I could just make everything all better.