Medicalization

We are in the midst of the issue of medicalization and labeling, brought up nicely by VAB. Joey is not the child at issue here; there is no escaping the fact that Joey is autistic, and requires special supports to teach him to function and cope. Joey's communication issues and behavior clearly "mark" him in a crowd of non-autistic peers (though we sometimes have trouble with the special ed people forgetting that he is in need of service...) That the label of autism has been medicalized is another issue.

Then we have Andy. Andy is three years and four months old. He doesn't like loud noises or chaos, and displays "ritualisitic" behaviors when attempting to cope with noise. He flaps his hands when excited or agitated. He has stopped eating most foods. He prefers to keep his hands clean. Until a couple months ago, he would not jump or swing, or do things that required his feet to leave the floor. He hates to spin or go in circles, such as on a carnival ride.

Is Andy just a quirky three-year-old, taking his time an ddeveloping in his own way, or does he require a special label and special service?

Labels are a double-edged sword. Andy being labeled "sensory integration dysfunction" means we know he needs service. He needs speech therapy to make his language intelligible (and the therapy has been highly successful in this regard.) He gets OT for hyper-sensitivity issues (like the noise problem, and the vestibular issue). But how much does this child need to be medicalized beyond that?

It can be great fun to sit in the park and watch the children run about playing, and thinking about them with the labels that bounce around my house. Oh, look, that kid like to push the turnabout- heavy work for propioceptive input. That kid prefers to spin around on the swing, on his tummy- vestibular input. A child covers his ears when someone squeals. Another kid clearly prefers to play alone. One prefers the spring-riders. Another prefers slides. Some run, some climb, some like to be under the playset in the cozy spaces, others prefer to be out in the open. Some kids play in the dirt. OThers run their fingers through the pine needles. One kid squeaks and squawks to find a smudge upon their hand. Sensory issues. Motor issues. OCD issues. Communication issues.

And these are the "normal" kids.

There are so many characters out there today to remind us- and our kids- that "normal" is a relative term. Its a spectrum of experience, just like any other. Variance is normal. Being quirky, or even eccentric, is still OK, and has value. There is such a thing as "having character," and it is far more interesting than just being part of the common crowd. Gotta love "Runt of the Litter" from Chicken Little. How about Henry (or Daisy, for that matter) on Oswald? We could even bring up Dopey or Beaker. These characters aren't called "disabled." They are who they are, and fit into their worlds in their own ways. No medicalization required.

Food

Andy was recently well-known around here as The Pig. He ate everything, and plenty of it. If you had it, he wanted to try it.

Now he is surviving off of ketchup, juice, milk, hot dogs, gummi worms, chocolate, pickles, cottage cheese, mandarin oranges, and this morning, we re-added yogurt. Last night, he wouldn't eat the hot dog.

How do we go from eating everything to eating nothing in just a few weeks?

Welcome to the world of SID/SPD. Hopefully, like Joey, he'll pull out in a little while... I think it took Joey about two years for the food thing to switch back on. But I understand we were lucky.

Changing the plan

I was supposed to have some time this fall. To be exact, about three hours, twice a week. I had plans for that time. I was going to make Halloween costumes. I was going to make Christma decorations. I was going to clean things, organize things, and drink a lot more chai with Christina.

Once again, we have not landed the plane in Italy. Andy is not in school. The only places that will take him are places I can't afford. Daycares will only do full-time slots, even if you don't ant a full-time slot. Preschools want teh kids "fully potty trained", meaning fully independant in the bathroom. They also apparently want kids to already have school social skills, like sharing, taking turns, and standing in lines or sitting in circles. So no school this year. I signed Andy up at the rec center, most of which starts in November now, and all is Mommy-and-me style. He'll be the oldest kid in most of it.

The few friends I have with "normal" kids are going out for coffee. They are comparing school experiences. They are showing off the crafts their kids make at school. I bet their houses are clean. I run into them here and there, and they tell me all about it. Some of them were even in school last year. They are learning their ABCs and their numbers and colors and how to play with playdoh and color pictures and use the scissors and glue. And moms are going shopping, and making crafts for the craft fair, and baking and cleaning and calling their friends and going to yoga classes and aerobics classes and pottery classes and knitting classes. I am definitely not in Italy.

And while they are going on, and clucking sympathetically when I say Andy is not in school anymore, I am thinking: Guess what I did Tuesday, instead of sending Andy to school? (Note: they never ask.)

I took Andy to the gym, where he played with other boys and girls (so what if most of them weren't his age? Not Andy). Then we went to the pumpkin patch and played with the chickens and llamas and horses and saw baby calves and picked pumpkins. Then we went to lunch at a resteraunt. Andy ordered his lunch and we talked about all the posters on the walls, and practiced using a fork to eat the ketchup (well, at least he ate something...) Then we rested at home a little until we had to go get Joey for speech therapy and OT. We got home tired, but we had FUN!!!

And today we went to the park- the kids were all younger again, but Andy didn't mind- and we played ball and collected acorns and Andy went down the slides. There was a spider there, and we talked about spiders and living things and how green and pretty he (she?) was. Then we had McDonald's for lunch, and Andy had speech. He made a spider. He's mastered his first goal (labials)! Now we're resting a little, before I pull out another art project- maybe we'll make a book about fall!

And there is the trade-off. I'll figure out how to make Joey's costume, and the house cleaning will wait for me (it always does). I'll call Christina. Maybe she can come over here one morning to have chai. I may not be in Italy- but Greece is nice, too.

Wordless Wednesday: At the Pumpkin Patch

Today is Mountain Day.

If you're a Smithie- today is Mountain Day.

For the rest of the world, today is the surprise day off. The president decides on a day, usually in October and before October Break, when classes are spontaneously cancelled, the library is closed, and everyone is go out an actually enjoy themselves in the New England fall. The day is announced without warning, as the bells begin to chime before 8 am (when I was there, they usually rang out about 7 am)- and that was that. No classes. No library. No computer lab. Instant Day Off.

My four glorious mountain days were all spent in the mountains around Northampton. There were several nice spots to just hike around, find a nice spot under the changing leaves, and sleep. One year my beau and I drove to Maine. I can still see the mountains alive with color and the big maple leaves drifting down around me. There is nothing like New England in the fall. Nothing at all.

We all need a Mountain Day. I'm not likely to get one, but we should all the same. Wake up and declare a National Holiday. Take the kids somewhere with apples and animals and pumpkins and cider, cool breezes and bright leaves and plenty of space to run. Someplace that sells candles and fruit and crafts and quilts. Somewhere the scent of cider and leaves blends with woodsmoke and maple syrup. Yes, indeed.

Happy Mountain Day.