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.
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.
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