A Tale of Two Teddies

 It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

That pretty much sums up life with Teddy. There are some days, and most often some moments of every day, where Teddy drives us crazy. Lately, he's been aggressive and mean toward AJ, actively sitting on him, pushing him, kicking him, etc. It's tough for us to even watch a TV show they both enjoy because Teddy feels the need to constantly follow AJ around the room to sit on him, push him off the couch, or push him if AJ tries to move away and stand. It's not pleasant for anyone, and we're not really successful in redirecting that behavior. 

There's also the attempts to scale the railing, which may yet result in Teddy's demise. I don't think he'll fare well with the fall from the second floor. 

There's also the attempts to scale everything. He thinks he's a naughty cat and likes to climb on top of our counters, grin and giggle. He also does the same with our tables. 

Then there's the days he's so crabby, lays on the floor crying because he doesn't get his way. More often than not, what he wants isn't appropriate like playing in the kitchen sink running both faucets for an obnoxious amount of time while spilling water everywhere. 

Those are the worst of times.

Yet, his mega-watt grin can brighten any room. It can instantly make you feel better, as long as he's not unleashing it because he's being sassy. 

His unbridled joy, literally jumping up and down with excitement, is infectious. It makes me laugh out loud. It brings me joy to see him so joyful. 

His excitement and passion for certain things, such as buses, tractors and his favorite people, is something to see. He makes so many people feel so special with his greeting for them and his desire to spend time with them ... at least until they realize he's just going to dictate their every move.

His spontaneous dance parties, whenever the music catches his attention, are hard to top. He moves to the music, with no regard for whatever else is occurring. He does so with much excitement and joy, and he gets even more excited when you join him. Few things top jamming out with Teddy if you need a mood boost. 

Those are the best of times.

The best help us endure and push past the worst. I'm grateful Teddy is such a bundle of joy that lights up the world. I just sometimes wish he was a bit less of a stinker. 

Goal: Keep Him Alive

I was mostly mom today, taking time off work to hang with the boys because we didn't have childcare. I did hop on one work meeting while Dave watched the boys. Someone asked what I was doing on my day off, and my reply was that I was "teaching school and trying to keep them alive." 

Apparently that response is a bit shocking to other people, at least those who aren't familiar with Teddy. When I heard shocked laughter, I explained that one of my sons has significant special needs, no safety awareness and likes to live on the dangerous side. I shared that he managed to open a pocket knife this morning. After that explanation, they agreed that keeping my kids alive was an accurate description. 

What I didn't share during the work meeting was that the pocket knife incident occurred when I was in the bathroom, using the bathroom. I was in the middle of doing my business when I heard rustling and knew Teddy was digging around on a shelf that is newly in his reach. Then the bathroom door flung open, I caught a quick glimpse of Teddy holding something, and then he shut it and ran away. I immediately processed that something he was holding was not something he was supposed to have.

I flung open the door and chased him a few steps, with my pants still around my knees. Sure enough, he was holding an open pocket knife, by the blade of course, with the biggest grin on his face. I maneuvered the knife out of his hands without either of us getting sliced.

His OT should be proud he can open this knife. Me, not so much.

Then I took the knife with me, locked the bathroom door and finished my business.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish my life was boring.

Pants are Pointless

Weeks like this make me appreciate our childcare providers more than ever. I always appreciate them and try to tell them how much we love them and couldn't manage without them. But weeks that we're juggling childcare and work drive home that point. This is one of those weeks.

For example, I went downstairs to grab lunch today. In the living room, along with a wide selection of toys, I also saw a broom, a dustpan and an oven mitt. I found my husband in the garage, trying to free Teddy from his entanglement in his running chair with his leg trapped. I assisted with that and commented to Dave that he looked like he was facing a firing squad. His reply was that at least a firing squad would put him out of his misery.

I can relate. Yesterday afternoon I spent the better part of my afternoon trying to get Teddy to wear pants. Teddy can independently put on his pants, but he has to be motivated. Otherwise, we assist him in dressing. It's not a big deal, except when he's actively resisting. Then, the child remains unclothed. I didn't fight him for the first hour, simply ignored him as he sat pantless on top of the dining room table while AJ worked on his school work. I joked to AJ that in traditional school, at least he doesn't have pantless classmates sitting on top of tables. 

However, when Teddy was miserable in the house, wanting to apparently do nothing except cause trouble or whine, I tried to get him ready to go outside. I'm pretty relaxed in my parenting style (as is evidenced by the pantless kid on the table referenced above), but pants are required for going outside. 

Look at those angry eyebrows.

I asked Teddy to put on his pants. I tried to assist him, to no avail. I used his talker to model how to use it to say, "You need pants." That didn't entice him to come by me, which normally he's so excited to use it that he cooperates until he gets his hands on the device. He chewed on his pants. He whimpered. He moaned. He cried. But eventually he put on pants.

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate our sitters? 

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

 AJ has spent the last couple weeks plotting, designing and building leprechaun traps. During the process, he mentioned something about leprechauns talking. I joked to him that perhaps Teddy is indeed a leprechaun. Rather than being non-verbal, perhaps Teddy talks in such a high pitch frequency that we can't hear him and only other leprechauns can. AJ obviously dismissed my theory because he's not easily fooled.

AJ set a total of 7 traps, most of which were sprung by Lucky, the leprechaun who visited our house. Unfortunately, AJ wasn't able to capture a leprechaun and had to settle for cookies and donuts left by the leprechaun instead of his pot of gold and unlimited wishes. 

Lucky the leprechaun left behind some treats. 

And perhaps the greatest gift from the leprechaun? He must have sprinkled Teddy with sleeping powder because Teddy slept until nearly 7:30 this morning, which is about 1.5 to 2 hours longer than normal. Can every day be St. Patty's Day?

Will He Ever Walk?

I can't tell you how many times Dave and I had that conversation in the first three years of Teddy's life. Somewhere around when he turned 2.5, we became absolutely certain that Teddy would walk independently. Sure enough, just a couple months before his third birthday, he took his first wobbly independent steps, motivated to grab car keys.

Through the years, we often described him to a drunk monkey in terms of how he walked. He couldn't stop the momentum of his body, so he simply crashed into walls. He walked into everything, unless he fell first because he fell every couple steps. His gait has improved slowly, but steadily, with a lot of physical therapy and practice. 

This, my friends, is the boy who we once wondered if he'd ever walk:

Now, we wonder if he'll ever stop running?

Non-Verbal Communication Misinterpreted

Today I took Teddy to music therapy for the first time since the pandemic. Pre-pandemic, I accompanied Teddy to music therapy each week, so I'm extremely familiar with it. We put services on hold through summer and resumed this fall to round out his therapy for his education this school year. His therapy sessions are smack in the middle of the work day, so our sitters have taken him each week. 

But our sitter was off today, so I took the day off to be mom because Teddy had physical therapy this morning, music therapy this afternoon and a meeting with his caseworker. As we drove to music therapy, I asked Teddy which building it was at because the program has expanded that therapy is now located in two buildings, one on either side of the road. He didn't point at the first building and was very excited when we parked at the second building. I was happy to see how excited he was to attend music therapy.

We waited until exactly 5 minutes before his appointment to minimize waiting room time and headed inside. I kid you not, Teddy was so excited he ran to the front door. We went into the waiting room, and he sat down nicely. I asked for his jacket and asked where I should hang it, and he pointed to the coat rack. He bounced around a few of the chairs, super excited to be at therapy. Then he was pointing to a therapy room, so I said, "Oh, that's where you do therapy?" He tried to go into his therapy room, but I told him we needed to wait for his therapist.

After several minutes, right when I expected his therapist, the lady sitting at the desk came to us and informed us that Teddy's therapy was across the street. (I'm guessing it took her a few minutes of texting Teddy's therapist to make sure she hadn't moved the location ... either that, or she was so entertained by Teddy's exuberance that she wanted to soak it up.) 

As we headed across the street, I asked Teddy why he didn't tell me. The little stinker was so excited because he thought we were going back to somewhere he hadn't been in a year, not the same ol' place he goes every week with Ms. Bri. 

Guess there's probably some merit in this new communication device that's supposed to arrive Monday ...

Perhaps We've Done Too Much PT

Teddy has attended physical therapy on average once a week since right before his first birthday. We've obviously had breaks in there for vacations, weeks with scheduling conflicts and the lag time between approvals for services. However, whether through school or outpatient services, Teddy has consistently had PT for more than 6 years. 

That therapy initially focused on core strength for him, simply working to sit independently. When that wasn't possible, we focused on how to develop some protective responses for when his chubby little body succumbed to gravity. As he grew with his core strength, we focused on kneeling in a 4-point stance to learn to crawl, practicing those motions over and over until he finally mastered them (and quickly moved on to hopping like a bunny because it was easier). 

We've spent years working on sitting in appropriate positions, which means everything from how to sit independently in a chair or on the floor to not sitting with his legs in the shape of a "W." I can't tell you how many times through the years, we've used the phrases, "No W sitting" or "Fix your feet." 

We've spent countless hours practicing everything from bearing weight while standing, stepping with all sorts of adaptive equipment and bikes and other contraptions to help reinforce the idea of using both legs in a pattern to move. 

The latest focus is safety on the stairs. At PT sessions, we spend time every week walking up and down the stairs, looking out the windows for something intriguing to see  and throwing balls down the stairs to retrieve them. Progress is gradual, but it's noticeable. Teddy went from doing one to two steps up without holding on to now 5 or more steps. He's learning to slow down and focus on holding on with a single hand for descending. He's definitely improving his stair safety except for one thing ...

... the railing. Our home has a railing that is open on both sides to go upstairs. There's also a railing in our hallway that overlooks our living room and entry way, which means the ground is nearly 15 feet from the top of the railing. Teddy discovered a few years ago that he could attempt to hook his foot over the railing, but fortunately he wasn't tall enough to be successful. We put garland on the railings and left it up all year as a deterrent. It worked initially.

Unfortunately now Teddy is tall enough to scale over the railing, and the garland did nothing to deter him. It just rained little bits of fake green garland around the house that required me to vacuum more often (or realistically live with a dirtier house). Most often, he actually climbs up the outside of the stairs and then scales the railing to end up on the stairs. It's slightly safer than the other way, I suppose. 

What terrifies us is him scaling over the railing and falling to the ground. It's bad enough on the stairs because that could be several feel to a significant distance. It's terrifying to think of him doing that from the second floor and falling down to the first floor. We've talked, half joking, about buying giant bean bags to serve as landing pads. Instead, Dave reached out to three people this week to get quotes to do construction to prevent the open railing between the floors. We'll see what they can propose ...

Until then, perhaps I should try a barbed wire garland?

Big Feelings

The last couple weeks we've spent time in our household talking about big emotions and how to handle them. The conversation largely occurs with our older son, who is feeling fatigued from COVID, stressed by virtual learning, and learning some tough lessons on consequences. He's capable of understanding these topics, expressing his feelings and learning to work through good coping skills. 

Even with that comprehension level, it's still tough to work through these times and the big feelings that come along with life. We struggle with that on nearly a weekly basis. 

Now imagine those struggles with a child who is a mystery. It's a mystery how much Teddy actually understands. We don't have a good gauge of this because it often depends on whether Teddy is willing to complete a task. If he's interested, he can do some pretty incredible things. 

It's a mystery what Teddy is thinking. We have guesses, and sometimes it's obvious. Other times, there's no way to even guess at what is going through his mind. I've often said that selective mind reading would be the superpower I would pick if given the choice. 

Life from Teddy's perspective ... still doesn't shed much insight on his thoughts. 

To combine both of these challenges, it's really tough when we say "no" to Teddy. Sometimes we understand what he wants, but we're still saying "no" to ice cream for breakfast or playing in the sink like it's his own personal waterpark. It's hard to know if he understands that we understand or if he thinks we're clueless. 

Sometimes it's easy to redirect Teddy to something different, and other times he's obsessed. When that happens, it becomes physically redirecting him, so that our basement isn't flooded from a kitchen sink waterpark. (Seriously, this is our battle lately. It gets water everywhere, his clothes need to be changed because they're soaked, dishes get broken and he drinks arsenic water. Other than that, no issues with it.) The challenge I have is that Teddy is getting so big that physical redirection, when he really wants something, gets to be a tougher challenge. He's got a good amount of size behind him and sheer determination. 

Then when he doesn't get his desired outcome, I swear he feels unloved. He melts into tears, sobbing, like we hate him. This can last for a few minutes to longer periods, like 30 minutes of miserableness. It often takes something significant for a change of pace, like going for a car ride or outside, to get him to shake the sadness. He definitely doesn't understand that we're not happy with his actions, not him as a human being. 

Ugh, big feelings are tough for kids. And they create big feelings for us as parents. Guess what? Those are tough, too.