So I'm turning 30 next week -- blah blah yes yes whatever not the point of this entry FOCUS people -- and when Jason asked me what I wanted, I did not even hesitate. All I wanted in the world was to not ever go back to the ruddy stinking Lunch Bunch nonsense.
He got me a MacBook instead.
Oh, I'm kidding. (Sort of. MmmmmmacBook. Shiny!) He took Noah to the class today, alone. I wish my reasons were more admirable -- to expand Jason's involvement in Noah's various therapies, to give him first-hand experience with what we're dealing with, or to maybe see if Noah behaved better without my neurotic self there. All perfectly good reasons, all perfect steaming loads of bullshit. I just didn't want to go. Don't make me. I can throw quite a tantrum myself, actually.
So Jason went and I stayed home and obsessed over Jamie Lynn Spears, clearly the current poster child for responsible, involved parenting.
It did not go well, again. Noah continued his full-scale freak-out over anything vaguely structured and bawled and clung and thrashed and screamed. Last week Jason listened to my report and wondered if maybe, JUST MAYBE, our kid was not SID or SPD , but was just an under-socialized brat who is allowed to run wild all day, which made ME freak out because I had been wailing that THIS IS ALL MY FAULT WAIT SHUT UP YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO ARGUE AND SAY THIS NOT ALL MY FAULT.
This week, Jason was a little baffled by what he witnessed. Noah was not just annoyed by being asked to sit on a chair. It wasn't like sitting on a chair at that particular moment was keeping him from the activity that he REALLY wanted to do. Noah was scared -- absolutely terrified -- of sitting in that chair. Or washing his hands. Or doing this or that or anything the teacher asked him to do.
And I think I get that. Back when I used to have anxiety attacks, I would have anxiety ABOUT my anxiety. I'd freak out before leaving the house because what would happen if I freaked out after I left the house? I was panicking about panicking.
Noah doesn't process things the way he should. I don't understand it, and obviously he doesn't understand it. I don't know how he'll react to certain situations, and neither does he. Thus: someone asks him to sit in a chair, he doesn't understand why, he doesn't know what that person is going to do to him once he's sitting on that chair, they might sing or touch his face or hold his hand or do any number of things that set him off. Therefore: I am not going to give you that chance, motherfucker, and I am not sitting in that chair.
I don't know. Maybe?
Someone commented on the entry about last week's class and said, basically, what's the point? Don't go if it stresses you out, you're making a bigger deal of this than you should, he'll outgrow it, etc.
I would love to not go. I loved not going today! I love that there's no class next week and I won't have to think about it until January. But. I'm going back in January. We'll actually be there two days a week then, because Noah's also enrolled in a Hanen program that starts up soon. (Big perk for that one? NO MAMA IN THE ROOM. MAMA HIDES IN ROOM DOWN THE HALL. MAMA'S IPOD GOES UP REAL GOOD AND LOUD.)
For us -- personally, and our situation is not your situation and I would never, ever presume that there is only one "right" way to do things and Lo, We Are Doing It -- the therapy is kind of a no-brainer. We either deal with this behavior now, or we deal with it in September, when we get a call from Noah's preschool about Noah causing disruptions in class, when Noah is three and no longer qualifies for help from Early Intervention and we're dealing with a whole other class of services. Taking a wait-and-see-if-he-outgrows-it approach seems unnecessarily risky. Sure, he might! He might not. Then what?
And I know. He's two. Two-year-olds push and test and can be serious, serious assholes. It's hard to really explain the many nuances of Noah's issues in a blog entry -- how yes, he's only two but...still. Something's...off.
Jason saw it today. Something...different. Something wrong, something whatever. I guess I have to ask you to take our word for it, or at least not to call us neurotic to our faces.
There's a small window, I think, before "issues" that interfere with behavior kind of meld into "behavior" that interferes with living life. There's a lot of sitting in preschool. In chairs! People sing! Badly!
I'm proud of our boy and the job we've done -- I know he feels safe and confident at home. He loves me. He strokes my face and hair and says "Oh Mama," before covering me in kisses. When he came home today from class he wanted me to hold him and cuddle him and tell him everything was just fine. I wish that were enough, but I know my job doesn't end with preparing him for the wilds of the basement playroom. There's a big scary world outside of our little house, and I can't stay home on Wednesdays and pretend that Noah's ready for it.