I was sick for a week, then Fischer was sick for a week.  Flu and SPD do not go well together.  I couldn't do any heavy work or proprioceptive activity with Fish for a week because my ass was too busy making indents in the couch.  Even when I wasn't beached up, exhausting options on the DVR, I couldn't do heavy work.  Then he got sick and wasn't able to do any heavy work himself for a week.  2 weeks minus heavy work combined with lack of routine means an additional 2 weeks of out-of-sync, domestic woe.

We've been trying to find ways to get Fischer physical exercise and the heavy work he needs to get back on track, but it's rough when it's cold.  His reaction time to activity is delayed; he may do the heavy work every day this week, but won't start regulating until next week.  Yesterday morning, we did some wheelbarrow walks before heading to the kids museum where we climbed enough stairs to flare up my rheumatoid arthritis.  (I was completely devastated that I had to consume Tylenol PMs last night.)  Then we did some swinging, sandbox, and rode on the 4-wheeler, in the rain. 

Today, I'll have to play Pengu; a hodge-podge of tent building, pillow throwing, and hide-and-seeking where I typically play the shit character.  I'm always the slow, unattractive, underdog.  I never get to be Captain Hook- I'm either Mr. Smee or a puny pirate.  Occasionally, I get to be the poop monster...at least he mixes it up.  If being the poop monster means he'll get underwear and pants on, I'm in. 

Tonight is gymnastics.  Lately, he's been campaigning against gymnastics.  Novelty has worn off, and the structure of the class infringes on his sensory seeking.  He was actually elated last week that he had diarrhea and could not attend class.  He tried to tell me this morning that he had diarrhea down the crack of the couch.  He's made it abundantly clear that he will not participate unless he gets a Wendy's hamburger before class.  Once the boss was finished outlining the rules, he agreed.  He just told me that he plans to let his teachers know that he had diarrhea last week, which is why he could not attend class.  I tried explaining to him that it is more appropriate to simply let them know that he was sick, but he believes in full disclosure.  I just hope he doesn't feel the need to demonstrate where diarrhea originates.  Last week, he spread his cheeks and asked me to look for his diary.  He dropped his pants at my parents house and showed them his rash.  I think he understands the difference between public and private appropriateness in this matter, but I'm not quite sure.  Either way, I'm pretty positive the word diarrhea is the word of the day. 

I've been sick for 3 days, therefore, Fischer's routine, our routine, is all sorts of screwed up.  Which means, I have a big-time deregulated toddler on my hands.  He's mouthy and easily agitated.  He wanted to leave therapy today because his OT suggested they take turns hiding during their game of hide-and-seek.  He NEVER wants to leave OT. 

Fischer is effected by each of the senses, but must work especially hard with proprioceptive input.  For those unfamiliar with the terminology, proprioception comes from our nervous system and is a form of sensory input that makes us spatially aware of our muscles, limbs, and joints.  A lot of kids with proprioceptive dysfunction seem uncoordinated or have difficulty gauging their movements.  They might not move out of the way fast enough when a ball comes toward their head.  I'm a huge baseball fan, so I like to use the sport as an example.  Good baseball pitchers have multiple pitches in their arsenal:  two seam, four seam, splitter, off-speed, sinker, etc.  Perfecting these pitches requires improved proprioceptive ability (delivery, velocity, gripping, arm movement), which can be trained.  They improve their proprioceptive abilities when they practice and train with their pitching coach.  Likewise, Fischer's proprioception improves when he "trains" with his OT.  Or, say I had one to many dirty martinis one night and got pulled over.  Police officers would gauge my proprioception if they suspected I might be over the legal limit.  If I were intoxicated, I might not be able to walk a straight line without looking down at my feet.  (Which by the way, never happens.  Well...the driving bit never happens.) 

Fischer is a big-time sensory seeker and he NEEDS rough-play- crashing, pulling, jumping, heavy lifting, wrestling,  It improves body awareness and his ability to focus.  Our morning routine consists of building tents with heavy, weighted pillows, jumping, piggy and horseback rides, running and crashing.  In the afternoon, we play on the playground, build forts with bricks, climb up dirt or snow piles, or play in the snow.  We haven't done any of this for the past 3 days.  Routine is of the utmost importance to any child with a sensory disorder.  Fischer needs to prepare his nervous system for what's coming.  He seeks out excessive proprioceptive input because he is essentially trying to regulate himself.  His nervous system needs calming.  When he gets too touchy-feely, can't sit still, or starts crashing into things, he needs more heavy work. 

Because I caught his sensory problems at such a young age, many of Fischer's issues have subsided.  SPD is neurological and it's possible to change how his brain interprets sensory input because it is not yet fully developed.  (At least, that's how I understand it.)  He started OT shortly after he turned 3, so he's been seeing his therapist for over a year.  In addition, he has learned coping mechanisms for a lot of his issues. But we also have to work very hard with the rough-play and heavy work to calm his nervous system.  A lot of kids, especially little boys, like to play rough, but Fischer needs this heavy work as a part of his play diet. 

Unless you spend a lot of time with Fischer, more than likely, you wouldn't even notice his sensory problems.  He sometimes hugs his cousins or friends too hard, breaks things or crashes into stuff.  Luckily, he's an extremely intelligent kid and has been able to hit all of his milestones despite his struggles.  He's not clumsy, and I think he'll probably be good at sports.  But that doesn't mean that he isn't working really hard to behave in a manner that is socially appropriate. 

Tonight, during Fischer's gymnastics class, I had a "light-bulb moment".  It was unavoidable, but he had OT this morning as well.  And with me being sick, he was deregulated from the get-go and it was too much.  Normally, he listens, follows instructions and does pretty good.  He'll get distracted and overwhelmed by the lights and noise sometimes, but can usually rein himself back in.  He struggled tonight and wouldn't participate in a few things.  Because it was an "off" day, his coping mechanisms were decreased.  He wandered around more than usual and his attention was down.  But I realized that every time he drifted off, he was reined back in, either by his teacher or himself.  It took a bit longer than usual, but even on a bad day, he was able to self-regulate in a social situation.  That is HUGE!  At the end of class, he ran over to the side-lines, hunched over and waited for the rest of the class to do their hand shakes.  Others probably see this act either as a sad form of withdraw or as defiance.  I see this as a small victory.  He was able to remove himself from an uncomfortable and over-stimulating situation and find a way to self-regulate without running out of the room to me.  Today is an oxymoron.  It's a good bad day!  Fischer is just like every other kid, only he's not! 

If you are easily offended and you procreate, you might need to find foster care for your child during the toddler years; especially if your young is of the male species.  Boys are fearless cannibals who devour you with their ruthless toddler talk.  Over the past few days, the offspring has spout off multiple opinions and phrases that I hope and pray he never repeats to anyone other than myself.  My feathers are not easily ruffled.  I can typically deal with most of his neanderthal bents, not that I have a choice.  This week, I'm reaching a boiling point.

Today, Fischer told me that his supper tasked like "rotten chicken poop."  Seriously kid, I might fail in the supermom race on a daily basis, but I can cook.  Now, you're telling me that my culinary skills are lacking as well?  Many times, his sensory issues with taste cause issues based on the type of day he's had.  I asked what the problem was because he'd eaten the same thing at my mother's house earlier in the week.  (Responds) "It's just gross mom."  I'd ask him how he knew what chicken poop tasted like, but I'm pretty sure that his answer might make me gag. 

Last night, he kept putting his bottom in my face and asking me to smell his butt.  Really?  Then came the gas.  Offspring says, "mom, how's that smell", then laughs.  What is the deal with boys and gas?  I have always taught him that gas is not something to laugh about; we should just say excuse me.  I suppose i shouldn't be surprised, because many of the men I surround myself with are unabashed about their bodily functions; even grown men think gas is funny. 

Similarly, a few days ago, he kept putting his feet in my face and asking me if they stunk.  I asked him to get his feet out of my face and the little shit responds with, "oh, sorry mom, I thought that was dad's face."  I'm pretty sure I sound like I'm raising a houligan.  I'm really not; he's actually quite a thoughtful, sweet, polite kid.- when he's not with me.  Unfortunately, that is 95% of the time. 

These antics pissed me off.  Hey... I can actually vent AND curse because he can't hear me.  I can no longer utilize many of my favorite words for fear that he will repeat.  And he WILL repeat.  Apparently, 'dammit' is a pleasing word for a toddler to regurgitate.. Daddy's friend says the "F-word".  Fischer knows that the "F-word" is naughty.  Technically, he doesn't say it.  And he chooses the most inopportune moments to tell me that he doesn't say the "F-word", like when we are in public...with old people around...and other kids.  As you have probably already guessed, he uses the actual word when telling me it isn't appropriate to say it.  One of our biggest struggles is impulse control and his utter lack of a filter.  Fischer's SPD causes impulse control issues.  He cannot control his impulses to grab and repeat what he hears.  But, thanks to OT and his coping mechanisms, strangers have no idea that I'm not just a horrible, white-trash mom who thinks it's funny when her kid curses.  But, I've accepted that "I'm that mom"; there are far worse tragedies in life than being the trashy lady in the store with the unruly kid.

I'm that mom.  You know...the mom you say you'll never become.  You find yourself behind a woman and her kid at the grocery checkout.  The kid is obnoxious.  He throws the entire box of Trident.  Mom reaches down to pick up the gum packets blanketing the tile just in time to meet a direct smack in the face.  You silently curse yourself because dude who chose the longest lane is checking out..  Now the little monster is trying to crawl out of the cart.  Plummet go the eggs and then he drops the "F-bomb."  You think that this mom needs some serious lessons on disciplinary techniques and say to yourself, "when I have kids, they will never behave like that."  When I was in my 20's, before I had Fischer, I had those thoughts. 

Even my friends who parent a "normal" toddler struggle at the grocery store.  I don't feel so bad when I hear about their toddlers' meltdowns or mishaps while shopping.   After we leave the store, Fischer becomes deregulated, seeks strong physical contact (like head-butting), and purposefully engages in inappropriate behavior.  SO not worth it.

Toddlers are constantly soaking in their surroundings; they are sensory seekers by nature.  Think about all the temptations the grocery store elicits;  the different colors, objects, textures, and sweet stuff.  Grocery shopping is time consuming and it's too much to expect a toddler to be patient.  Hell, I have a hard time being patient.

If I have no choice but to take Fischer, I engage him in some sensory play just before I leave.  (I prefer to self-medicate, but I need to be coherent when selecting fruit snacks.).  I digress; we play outside in the snow or sandbox to help curb the need to grab.   Since he's a big oral motor kid, I give him a sucker or make sure I bring along his chewelry to comfort him.  Saving Fischer the anxiety far outweighs getting whatever it is that I need.  So we're out of toilet paper, no big deal.  He hates the vaulted ceilings, the lighting, and the crowds at the grocery store.  I'm sure there are other sensory triggers that I have yet to pinpoint.  I can't stand half the people at the grocery store, so I prefer not to subject Fish.

Dear Nutella,

I've been putting off this conversation for quite some time because I do not want to cause a rift between us.  Let me start out by saying that Fischer just adores you.  You two get along so well; I am very appreciative of not only the comfort you are able to provide, but also your amazing ability to subside the sweet tooth with just one tablespoon.  And between you and me, I much prefer you over his friend Red 40. 

Fischer accepts your creamy chocolatey texture without reservation by the receptors on the tongue.  However, I do not appreciate the mess you leave behind.  Do you think my house cleans itself?  And excuse me for being so blunt, but were you born in a barn?  You need to take a lesson in appropriate manners and start cleaning up after yourself. 

Although my cream colored couch has had beef with red wine and spaghetti, it doesn't make it okay.  If I wanted a mocha colored couch, I would have bought a mocha colored couch.  And even if I was interested in redecorating, my couch does not require a fresh coat of paint each time you grace us with your presence.

Hopefully, now that we've gotten a few things straightened out, you and Fischer can continue your sacred friendship.  We can only handle you in small doses, which really is for the best because you wouldn't want to wear out your welcome. 

I knew that something was "off" at 18 months.  Fischer used to remove his dirty diaper, soil himself in his feces, smell it, taste it, and paint it on his crib and the wall.  Kevin gagged and vomited (he works with animals, so really, what's the big deal?)  I called Pinot and she came to the rescue.  These incidents happened more than I care to discuss.  This among other issues warranted a trip to Fischer's primary care doctor where we were told, "he's just a boy."  Really? 

Age two rolled around and Fischer was in overdrive, nonstop.  And I mean nonstop.  We continued to have "incidents".  While I cleaned up one mess, he went to work on the next debacle, which usually involved breaking something cool.  His body craved sensations.  He sought out sharp and dangerous objects.  He was fast and destructive.  He put everything in his mouth; toilet paper, potting soil, deer poop, sticks, yellow snow.   When he was two and a half, he drank rubbing alcohol.  This time the doc said, "it's the terrible twos."  Things continued to escalate and traditional means of punishment did nothing for Fischer.  When Fischer turned 3, I still had to watch him like a hawk.  I had to carry him everywhere because he would run away as soon as his feet hit the ground.  He flailed and fought getting in and out of his car seat.  'No' meant absolutely nothing to Fischer.  We couldn't go visit anyone unless their home was completely child proof, and even those homes were not really "Fischer-proof". 

Breaking point...age 3.  It was the middle of winter and the ground was completely snow covered.  Fischer slipped outside without my knowledge and I couldn't find him.  I've never be so scared.  I found him in my car, barefoot, keys in hand, trying to start the car.  I brought him inside and ran warm water on his feet.  He didn't even notice that his feet were cold until we'd been in the house for five minutes, and he had frostbite.   Doc referred him to a behavioral specialist.  His under-reponse was more than strange behavior; he had a delayed reaction to pain.  I took him to an OT instead.  We discovered that he had sensory processing disorder and finally, a lot of things made sense.  No need to enter the lousy parent contest...at least, not yet..  It doesn't make it any easier, but it feels a hell of a lot better to know that I don't totally suck.