Chronicle 60: To the Mob Mentality Mamas

If we are friends on my personal Facebook profile then you may have noticed I've been posting some very personal things lately. This particular personal struggle has been overwhelming, life changing, emotionally & physically exhausting, confusing, isolating, amazing, you name it. I'm talking about Sensory Processing Disorder, which my son and I both have.

In a nutshell, a very LITTLE nutshell, sensory processing disorder is a neurological condition that affects how a person reacts to stimuli. Sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches will send our body into fight or flight mode. ALL. DAY. You can imagine how exhausting it can be with adrenaline constantly coursing through our bodies telling us that the ceiling fan, traffic noise, dishwasher, sock seams, shirt tags, etc. are too much to handle and we need to ESCAPE. NOW. or fight back with our words, our attitudes, our bodies.

There wasn't a name for this, really, when I was growing up. The symptoms of SPD can mirror those of Autism and ADHD, and I didn't exhibit obvious behaviors associated with autism and ADHD. How does a child explain or even know that what they're feeling isn't normal, or that they should be given specific tools to deal with a variety of situations? So, I taught myself and never talked about it. This is how I deal with it: I don't wear socks, EVER. I don't spend a lot of time around crowds. I disappear to my room when I can't handle noises. I text instead of call. I leave the mall, grocery store, or restaurant when I'm overwhelmed. Hearing someone chew is my personal hell - sometimes the movie theater can be, too. A lot of times my senses trigger fight mode to the point where rage builds up and I explode. I'm only human, after all.

Luckily, when Grayson started exhibiting signs of SPD I was on it. We consulted several doctors and now he is seeing an occupational therapist and making great strides in a Montessori preschool. The structured environment works well for him. Every day is a constant struggle. Not only is Grayson very energetic, but he is compulsively inquisitive, curious, and unintentionally aggressive with others. Everyone always says, "He LOOKS normal. You would never know something is wrong with him." Or the classic, "He's ALL boy, idn't he?"

How do I put this? Nothing is "wrong" with my son. We are dealing with a different set of challenges than you. Which is why I hate the special needs label he has acquired. Putting a label on Grayson entitles other people to treat him differently, to judge him, to see him as flawed and damaged, to expect less of him, to exclude him from mainstream society, to pity him, and to categorize him as a nuisance. How do I know this to be true? We have already experienced it first hand. And thus, I have written an open letter to the women who surrounded my son and I at the playground last week.



To the Mob Mentality Mamas at the playground:

I'm sure it was easy for you to misjudge the situation. One minute your children were playing happily on the jungle gym, and the next they were running to you with tears on their cheeks. They tell you through hiccuping sobs that a little boy hit them. "Who?" you demand, standing up to find the culprit. Up until that moment you had been chatting with your friend and staring at your phone, allowing your 18 month old to navigate the massive playground alone.

"That boy! In the plaid shirt!" Immediately scanning the playground, you don't see another mom, except for the one bent over a stroller, trying to strap in an acrobatic toddler who clearly would rather still be running around.

An older woman steps in, the weight of God-like judgement burdening her. "PLAID SHIRT! WHO DOES THAT KID BELONG TO?!" She repeats it several times until the mom at the stroller stands up, dazed and confused. She had literally just walked away from her son to put her daughter in the stroller. A mere minute, and now chaos was unfolding.

Sound dramatic? It was. After I was beckoned by the older woman, Grayson came out of the play area saying that the moms had told him he didn't belong. He came over to me, confused, clearly knowing he had done something wrong, but not understanding the situation. I was a bit confused myself. Grayson is sensory seeking, meaning that his neurological system needs deep input or pressure to stabilize. Sometimes he will bump into things or people to get the input he needs. Rarely does he push or shove to get that input, especially without provocation. The way he reacts to being overwhelmed can come across as misbehavior to those that don't know him, and don't know SPD. Believe me, he DOES know right from wrong.

Clearly, the children we were dealing with were angels and had no responsibility in the situation whatsoever. I brushed that snarky thought aside as I bent down to talk with him. "Grayson, it is never ok to hit or push, for any reason. Let's go speak with our friends and hear what they have to say." (I was pretty damn proud of myself for handling it this way. In reality I wanted to curse, punch, scream, and yell myself. I kept my cool knowing they would never hear my message if I got defensive. Again... really proud.)

We walked over to the children, who had been lined up in a row. The parents began to surround us. Really! They literally formed a circle around us, including the older woman and her friend who said, "We don't have any children involved in this." (Ummm, ok? Then why ARE you involved?) I could read anger and judgement on their faces, their arms were crossed, their body language was actually pretty menacing. I imagined tiny pitchforks in their non iPhone holding hands. It felt like West Side Story without song and dance to break the tension. Breathing deep and trying to calm my fluttering heart, I had Grayson speak to each child, apologizing and asking if they were ok. They each nodded, tears already dry. They were eager to return to playing and ran off immediately. The parents remained, staring at me.

I gathered Grayson up and said, "My son has Sensory Processing Disorder, and we are working on the social aspect." As much as I hated to say it, it worked. Their faces immediately softened, they actually took a step back, and then muttered an "It's ok" before walking away.

Of course I was MORTIFIED and Grayson had a meltdown as we left. He wanted some cinnamon pretzels, a request that was clearly denied. I wanted to dig a hole and hide. And then came the flood of retorts, the imagined things I would say and do given a second chance, all of which I cannot repeat.

I stick by how I handled it. My friend was there and watched the whole thing unfold. She could not believe what had happened. If Grayson was indeed "normal", then pushing is still developmentally appropriate for his age. What child hasn't acted out? What behavior exactly would justify closing in on a mom and her 4 year old son at the playground?

I will tell you this, mob mentality mamas. I'm glad you were there. I am glad you learned there may be a reason to stop before judging a child or mother. Or that this open letter reaches to hearts that need it. Thank you for teaching me that I can handle situations like this - that we will survive, and hopefully educate others about a disorder that can't be seen on the face or body of a child.

Sincerely,

The Hot Mama & her son <3

For more information on SPD: http://www.spdfoundation.net/about-sensory-processing-disorder/

Chronicle 25: A Brief Hiatus

So I took a brief hiatus: from blogging, from life, from everything, really. It's been one of those weeks. No, make that month. Or even year, if you'd like. I feel as if I'm living two very different lives at the moment, and the distance between the two is stark and startling, and frankly, I lack the energy to figure it out at the moment.

My life as a mother is just right. It's baby bear's porridge, with extra sugar and cream and a temperature that warms your tummy, but leaves your tastebuds intact. My life makes sense. I have a purpose. My lungs breathe for him. My heart swells and breaks and mends itself a thousand times a day. It is simultaneously the hardest and greatest thing I have ever done.

And, at this point, I am doing most of it single handedly.

I'm half of a whole, yes. But while my husband's away each week, I become the whole. I try too hard to be the mother and the father. I encourage independence, yet I cling to my son. I play rough and tumble, then lament over our bruised knees and carpet burns. I butt in on their sacred bath time, then read books about a mama's love in soft whispers. I weep at the drop of a hat, only to quickly dry my son's tears and catapult into distractions.

So you see? Jekyll and Hyde. One moment I'm filled with joy, and the next? Despair and, yes, loneliness.  I miss my partner, my lover, my friend. Not only do I miss my husband, but I miss our family as a unit. Our mundane rhythm. The daily moments that seem so routine and boring, until they're disrupted. I mourn the fact that he has missed, and will miss, G's most transformative time.

I was completely overcome this weekend when my baby crawled for the very first time! I could see him gearing up for it all week. Tummy time transformed into popping up onto all fours and rocking and rolling towards an unknown destination. By midweek he had begun to look down and check out his knees while he lunged forward, desperately grasping for the glowing remote.

Saturday was THE day...tentative moments that resulted in alternating hands and knees. A brief movement that caused G great bewilderment when I burst into tears as my husband clapped his hands and lunged in for a hug.

For that one moment, I forgot everything and felt content. Felt whole.

Xoxo,
The Hot Mama

Chronicle 20: Fear vs. Faith

After putting Peanut down for the night, I usually unwind with a book, or listen to some records while sipping a glass of wine, or peruse the "heavy" sections of the paper while my husband stares at me adoringly from across the living room...

PSYCHE! I WATCH TV. There, I said it. I unwind by watching a trainwreck of a reality show, or catching up on backlogged episodes of Beverly Hills, 90210 (that I DVR every day). So, a few nights ago, I was all caught up on my stories, and looking for something uplifting. 

Enter E! and the True Hollywood Story of Giuliana Rancic. I've always thought Giuliana was adorable; she is super cheeky and chic...y. She makes crazy celebrity gossip seem like something important and exciting. And she is always honest and open about her personal life and struggles. I was so saddened when I heard about her being diagnosed with breast cancer. So saddened, in fact, that I started to cry.

Now, I don't know about all you mamas, or soon to be mamas, out there, but I cry ALOT now. Like every day. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes more than twice. So there I was, on the couch, remote in one hand, half-eaten Cadbury Creme Egg in the other, bawling my eyes out. But... quietly, so as not to wake the bebe.

Then, for no reason at all I got scared. Scared that baby G wasn't breathing (checked video monitor...he was fine). Scared that my husband's taxi got in an accident on the way back to his hotel (paranoid call...he was safe and sound, ordering chocolate cake from room service. Wait... I WANT chocolate cake!!) Scared that my eating habits will make me have a heart attack. Darn...no chocolate cake for me. But most of all, just plain scared that something would happen to any of my loved ones. 

Right as I was about to start hyperventilating (silently of course), I heard Giuliana's husband say something profound. He was talking about Giuliana's attitude about breast cancer and he said that we have a choice. We can either live by fear or we can live by faith. HOLD. THE. PHONE. How many times have I heard something similar? "Worrying is like a rocker, you never get anywhere" or "Let go, and let God." But combined? And so simplified? And so REAL? Never.

I don't claim to be religious. I've struggled with organized religion and the messages they put out in the world. Do not misunderstand me; I am so grateful that we have the freedom and are able to find comfort and something to believe in. But I look at my son, and how my body put him together and I feel as if there has to be something out there, orchestrating and planning and watching us grow. My life has come to a point where I'm ready to accept that there's more to life than just me and what I want. It's 100% scary giving up that bit of control. But Bill Rancic was absolutely right...it IS fear vs. faith. It's a choice, one you have to make every day. Quite the commitment.

I feel a bit better when I realize that faith doesn't even have to pertain to religion. It just means I acknowledge that most things are out of my control, and I can either be a paranoid freak, or let go of the paralyzing fear. So I am. And I will. One day at a time. 

Readers, what fears do you have? What have you let go of? How does Faith vs. Fear inspire YOU?

Much love to you all.

Xoxo, 

The Hot Mama

Chronicle 18: Party Planning!

So, as you may know, my darling bubba-loo turned 6 months old at the beginning of March. You would never know it because the chunky monkey has graduated to the 9-12 month size in clothing, has been sitting on his own since 4 months, and, in the next few weeks, will have a grand total of 8 (COUNT UM, EIGHT) teeth! I have to brag a little, mamas. Because here's the thing... I am completely in love with my son. Which means I'm totally crazy over EVERY thing he does. It is so nutty and insane, but SO TRUE. That means I have to brag a little. But, I am finished. For now.

I was so tempted to throw all tackiness to the wind, and plan a small celebration for Baby G's half birthday. You see, Pinterest has the ability to make me believe I can and should do all sorts of things. It makes me believe I can turn a man's flannel shirt into a club dress, or make a whole new patio set out of old pallets, or even use a crockpot every single day of the year. It's an affirmation of what our parents have been telling us all these years, "You can do ANYTHING!" 

Parental encouragement aside, I forced myself to wait another six months and instead started gathering ideas for what will hopefully be a very well thought-out 1st birthday party. I thought about planning it the old fashioned way...Oh, you forget what that entails? It involves running around to several different stores in the hopes of finding something that would catch my eye or fit the theme I am desperately obsessed with (circus, or "vintage circus" if you wanna get fancy). I did, however, run into some cute lil thangs at Target, which I promptly added to my cart pile and then stored in G's closet. 

Here are a few of the ideas I've been drooling over and weighing on the "Time Spent on DIY Project vs. What G and/or family members will remember years from now" scale. 

Absolutely loving the lit up Circus sign. I'm not quite sure I would have anywhere to put it, but it definitely looks doable. I don't think I would attempt it for a one year old's birthday party, especially since he won't remember it. And I'm pretty sure he will grow out of the circus theme by the time he's 3. So, I'm just going to leave this project for all you over-achieving mamas out there. I also love those individual popcorn buckets and straws adorned by tiny mustaches. How sweet! 

I love the use of primary colors, and the simplicity of the decorations here. It doesn't really scream "antique", because the colors are so bright, but I can work with this! Just love those sassy little lollipops...but where do I get them? Are candy stores extinct??

These are darling, but I would probably have the main cake decorated this way. Can you imagine spending all that time for one cupcake?! And how do you undress it? And where do you put all the little bits and pieces? Too complicated for a cupcake! 

I like the idea of serving something as simple as hotdogs, but incorporating a vintage themed machine such as this hot dog roller. Or a popcorn maker. It has to be something we will use over and over, because I'm not about to dish out $50 (for nostalgia's sake) for one event. I would also love to figure out a way to incorporate this:

A smash cake made entirely of fruit! How exciting/healthy is that?! Although, I could wait to do this another year or two. Not sure if I want to miss watching our little man get covered in icing!

And don't even get me started on invitations. Please observe how my obsession began:

By TwoPoochPaperie on Etsy

ohsobeautifulpaper.com

Found at www.riflepaperco.com

So, those are a few of the ideas that I'm currently toying with. It is entirely possible that I will be enamored with a completely different theme in the next 5 months. I have found some rather cute nautical/dinosaur/super hero ideas...

Now, tell me what YOU did or want to do for an upcoming/past birthday party! Where did you get your ideas and your supplies? Mama, what is your advice for a first birthday party?

Xoxo,

The Hot Mama